


The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea

by My_Trex_has_fleas



Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boats and Ships, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Georgian Period, Historical References, M/M, The Royal Navy, War Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11299833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary: Lieutenant Ross Poldark of the 62nd Foot is deployed to North America to fight in the War of Independence. Things do not go the way he expected and a whole new chapter of his life begins.This is for Wetherebelskies, my first reader and a wonderful talented person in her own right who encouraged me and stopped me from giving up when it felt like nobody was reading way back when. All my love and thanks forever.





	1. His Majesty's Ship Dragon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TalesInInkAndStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesInInkAndStars/gifts).



> This is a repost of the original story with some alterations of the original chapter layout and storyline. I will be tinkering and editing as I go, and while I am not writing atm this is the next best thing for me, so enjoy!

_Plymouth, March 1776_

Lieutenant Ross Poldark walked determinedly, following his captain through the throng of people on the dock. They were headed for the frigate at the end as instructed by the harbour master and following them was their small contingent of the enlisted soldiers from the 62nd Foot - the Light Infantry regiment that he had joined. It had been more to escape the unpleasantness at home than out of any particularly patriotic fervour and Ross knew he had been lucky to find and buy a commission as an officer. More correctly it had been his father who had done so on his behalf, made possible by being the son of a gentleman, although that was up for debate at present. They were to depart along with a mass of other infantrymen from several regiments then cross the Atlantic and assist in the colonial skirmish taking place half a world away. Ross had never been keen on anything that did not have a direct impact on himself and his enjoyment of life, so he found himself marching towards HMS Dragon with no small amount of trepidation.

He had, to his surprise, found himself to be strangely cut out to be a soldier. He certainly enjoyed the prestige afforded as an officer in His Majesty’s Army. The notion, however, of spending the next six to eight weeks crossing the Atlantic, weather permitting of course, was far more off-putting. He loved the ocean because being from Cornwall made it from nigh on impossible not to, however, the reality of getting on a tall ship and being out of sight of land for an extended period of time unnerved him. He was also convinced that his tall, angular frame would not be particularly conducive to life on board ship and the cramped conditions he'd been assured were standard.

Up ahead, Captain Howard had stopped and was talking to a grey haired man whose white waistcoat and blue frock coat clearly marked him out as a navy man. The man gestured towards the ship behind him, and Howard nodded at Ross, inviting him to come forward.

‘Lieutenant,’ he said, ‘This is Mr Kent, Boatswain of the Dragon. He is going to make sure you are all stowed away and I will return in a short while once I have everything in order. Be a good lad and make sure the men don’t break anything, will you?’ He nodded to Kent and left Ross intorduce himself further to the man.

‘Mr Kent, I am Lieutenant Ross Poldark.’ he said and Kent nodded once, his grey eyes evaluating Ross.

‘You’re young,’ he said.

‘No younger than your Lieutenants, I’m sure.’ Ross replied, a little stung by his comment, ‘I am twenty-one.’

Kent cleared his throat.

‘Not as old as our first and second Lieutenants, although you do have a year on our third. It was not meant as a slight on your rank sir, merely a surprise to see one as young as you being given the responsibility for that rabble you are tagging along behind you.’ He smiled, his face going from stern to completely affable in a second. ‘Although it is good to see that you are not afraid to speak your mind. You’ll have that in common with our third Lieutenant as well.’ He beckoned to Ross to follow. ‘Come along. We shall get your lot on board and settled in.’

The Dragon was a two deck frigate, although Ross would only come to learn that later. He followed Kent on board with the men with Kent leading the way and weaving through the sailors easily. Ross followed less quickly, having a tendency to bump into both people and things as he tried to get through. Up ahead, Kent stopped amidships to address a man who was leaning over the side and shouting down to someone. Like the boatswain he wore a blue frock coat, but he seemed at first glance to be considerably younger than Kent. His back was to Ross, but he saw thick dark gold hair that was slightly curling and pulled into the regulation naval tail and tied off with a blue ribbon. Kent said something to the young man and motioned Ross forward. The sailor turned and Ross saw an open face, the skin deeply tanned, with a pair of startlingly blue eyes. He was not as tall as Ross, maybe about half a head shorter, but he was broad in the shoulders and body. He smiled and two deep dimples appeared in his cheeks, something that made his face seem instantly friendly and endearing him to Ross at once.

‘Lieutenant Ross Poldark of the 62nd Foot,’ he found himself saying and stretched out his hand. The sailor took it, his grip firm.

‘3rd Lieutenant James Hawkins of His Majesty’s Ship Dragon,’ he replied, his voice clear and forthright.

‘Excellent.’ Kent clapped his hands together. ‘Jim will show you were you can stow yourself and your men, Lieutenant and seeing as you two are of an age you may want to settle him in with you, Jim. I don’t think Preston and Halford mind bunking up together for a time. At least it will give them some respite from your antics.’

‘Aye aye, Mr Kent.’ Jim replied grin broadening. ‘They are lacking in humour since I cleared out their pockets last night.’

‘Well don’t be letting your bad habits rub off on our guest.’ Kent admonished, although his tone was amused. He set off down the deck, leaving Ross with the young lieutenant.

‘I thought officers and gentlemen were not supposed to gamble.’ Ross remarked.

‘It’s a good thing I am not a gentleman then,’ Jim retorted, and something in his tone made Ross feel a little disquieted. ‘Come on, it’s this way. Bring your men.’

With that he led Ross and his contingent towards the hatch that led below decks which was indeed as cramped as he had feared and he hit his head on the low part of the staircase or gangway as Jim called it. It was hot, it stank of sweat, boiled meat and cordite and he was convinced that he had seen several things that could only be rats dart into the shadows. Ross felt clumsy and out of place, in sharp contrast to Jim who navigated the decks with the ease of an established sailor, and Ross snuck a look at him. His companion was compactly built and had no problems with the low overhead beams, and deftly evaded the other inhabitants of the ship. They got down to the bow and Jim showed Ross to his cabin that he shared with Preston for Ross to stow his gear. Settling in did not mean what Ross had expected it to. For one thing, he had no bed, only a rolled up hammock that he had no idea how to set up or get in to, although at least he had the privacy of Jim’s cabin, as small as it was.

'You'll get used to it.' Jim was grinning. he' clearly observed Ross' hesitance. 'This is our space so you and the other officers will be sharing the gun room with us for meals and to repose yourself if you are not on watch, although that is yet to be settled. Captain Strugess will not doubt be availing himself of your services soon enough.'

'Captain Sturgess?' Ross asked and Jim nodded.

'He's our Master of Marines.' he explained. 'You'll be answering to him aboard ship.'

'Oh.' Ross frowned. He knew that all ships had a contingent of soldiers who acted as guards and riflemen, but his experience of this was limited. 'What duties might I be expected to perform.'

'Watch duty, as I mentioned.' Jim replied. 'And you'll no doubt be busy with drills and other such things. It doesn't do to be idle. We have a sixty day voyage ahead of us and you'll be pleased of the distraction soon enough. Especially considering that our quarters are not especially spacious.'

'That is very true.' Ross looked around him as he spoke. In his eyes the cabin was barely bigger than a store cupboard and the high set box bunk was far too short for him, hence the hammock which Jim had pressed into his hands

'You'll get used to it in no time.' His cheery assurance failed to make Ross feel any better and he mentally cursed his own stupidity in landing himself in his current circumstances.  
'I doubt that.' he muttered and Jim laughed.

'Let us go back on deck.' He started for the gangway. 'Get you back out in the air.'

Ross soon discovered that everything about Jim Hawkins seemed to be cheery, although he did show himself to be in possession of a sharp tongue and quick wit. Ross was so used to being in command of any situation he found himself in that these unfamiliar circumstances had left him very unsettled and he took to following the young officer like a shadow as Jim explained the ins and outs of the ship and helped supervise the distribution of hammocks to the enlisted soldiers, who seemed to be as in the dark as he was. Jim was now talking a mile a minute as he explained the duties of the officers aboard. They had taken a spot aft so Jim could point out the different members of crew. He had already introduced Ross to the Sailing Master, a rangy red faced man named Fletcher, the Purser, Isaacs, and his fellow Lieutenants, who Ross could see were only a little older than the two of them. There were so many people that he was having difficulty keeping track of who was who and in the middle of an extended description of the watches worked, he found himself being spun around by a whirlwind of small boys in blue jackets.

‘Oi!’ Jim shouted, collaring the nearest one, a short lad with shaggy dark blond hair and so many freckles he put Ross in mind of a coach dog. ‘I do not see any fire so would you like to explain why you are charging down deck like a herd of cattle, Mr Blythe.’

‘No reason sir. Sorry sir. We’re just excited sir.’ Blythe babbled, wriggling in Jim’s firm grasp. The other boys had come to a halt in an ungainly pile up and were now hovering just behind Ross, who couldn’t help but smile at the collective expressions of horror at Blythe’s fate mixed with absolute glee that they were not on the receiving end of the shaking that Jim was handing out.

‘Less haste, more speed Mr Blythe.’ Jim ordered, releasing the boy. ‘And that goes for all of you. Officers should set an example.’ This was directed at the other boys and they all shrank inside their blue jackets.

‘Yes sir.’ they chirped like a small flock of birds before taking off again, albeit far more slowly this time. Ross watched them in bemusement. He had had an inkling that lads entered the navy young but was a little surprised at just how young they were and looked at Jim questioningly.

‘Midshipmen.’ Jim explained, ‘Officers in training.’

‘But they are only boys.’ Ross observed and Jim snorted with laughter.

‘So was I when I went to sea,’ he leaned back on the rail. ‘Don’t worry, each one of those lads is a competent sailor. They can each manage a full gun crew without so much as blinking an eye so we can forgive them their high spirits. They will be tested soon enough I fear.’

‘You don’t think this little rebellion will give us much trouble do you?’ Ross asked and Jim shrugged.

‘I think a prudent man doesn’t try to predict something that he couldn’t possibly estimate until he has fully assessed his opponent’s strengths,’ he replied, his face serious.

Ross raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Are you saying that you have no confidence in your fine navy?’ He watched Jim's expression carefully.

‘Not at all.’ Jim shot back, ‘But I think that we underestimate the colonialists at our own peril. I most sincerely hope you packed for a long journey Lieutenant because I think you’ll find we will be there a little longer than everyone expects.’

************

Captain Howard returned to the ship not long after, and assigned Ross the task of overseeing the enlisted men, who would be assisting with the bringing aboard of provisions. In keeping with the long honoured tradition both he and Ross had bought in provisions from their own pockets which would form their contribution to the officers’ victuals to be taken in the ward room or gun room which served as the officers' mess. Ross watched with interest as pigs and chickens were brought aboard and bedded down, the chickens fore and the pigs aft. There were also barrels of water and gunpowder to feed the twenty-eight guns on her two decks which went down below to be stowed in the powder store right at the bottom of the ship and well below the waterline.

Ross watched Captain Howard conversing with a barrel chested man at the stern of the ship, straightening up as they approached. He noted that the sailors paid their respects as he passed, pressing a knuckle to their foreheads. The man was distinguished looking, with dark brown hair that he wore cropped short on the neck and bearing the gold braid of a Captain’s epaulette at his shoulder.

‘Lieutenant, this is Captain Marcus Sellar.’ Howard said and Ross inclined his head dutifully. The captain looked at him with shrewd blue eyes, before they crinkled in a friendly expression. He did not stop to make conversation but moved on leaving Ross to his task. Once it was done, he glanced across the deck to where Jim had also finished undertaking the same task with his group of hands. Ross made his way over, and joined him in leaning over the side as he had been before. He glanced sideways at Jim, noting a fine profile even if his nose was a little long.

‘When will we depart?’ he asked.

‘High tide is at six fifteen this evening and we should have a fine wind.’ Jim said, turning to lean back against the board. ‘If all is well we will set out tonight. You and I are set to do the Morning watch so after dinner I would suggest we get some sleep.’

Ross looked at him enquiringly.

‘Morning watch?’ He did not like the sound of that particular duty.

‘Yes. Four to eight in the morning.’ Jim laughed at Ross’ stricken expression. ‘Don’t worry, it will change each day. And at least I will have someone to talk to.’

‘I can’t be sure I will be capable of talking at that hour.’ Ross muttered in reply.

*********

As predicted, they made ready to sail with the high tide. Ross watched, fascinated at the burst of activity around him. He was fore and watching Jim supervise the unfurling of the sails of the fore mast while he looked on in amazement as the sailors climbed the rigging as quickly as if running down a street.

‘Can you do that?’ he asked, and Jim nodded.

‘Oh yes, I was up and down these ropes like a monkey when I was a midshipman. I’m not as fast now, but a lot more careful.’ He turned and gave Ross an appraising glance. ‘I dare say we could even let you have a try if you are so inclined.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Ross quickly backtracked, the very thought making him turn pale. ‘I like my feet just where they are at present, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘Coward.’ Jim laughed. Ross was about to retort, when he saw the mocking smile he was being given, and lost his train of thought. Jim’s smile widened at his obvious consternation and he turned back to his task, leaving Ross to wonder what it was about the young officer that disconcerted him so.

The sound of a bell caught his attention and Jim stopped what he was doing.

'I think that's dinner.' He grinned at Ross. 'This will no doubt be interesting for you.'

'It's dinner.' Ross was used to Army formalities and despaired at the thought. 'How entertaining could it be?'

'You'll see.' Jim was smirking. 'We're invited to the Ward Room tonight, seeing as it's your first night aboard ship.'

An hour later and Ross had to conceded that dinner was a jovial affair. It transpired that the two Captains ran in similar social circles, which made for amusing dinner conversation. Captain Sellar ran a fairly relaxed wardroom and the port and madeira ran freely, although Ross took his cue from Jim and drank only one glass. The food was of excellent quality with a roasted beef joint and vegetables.

'Enjoy those. They are going to be in short supply until we reach a supply station.' This was from Sturgess, the Master of Marines, who was in attendance. He was a florid man, the red of his coat blending almost perfectly with his face after a few glasses of brandy. He peered at Ross through bleary eyes. 'Although your height indicates you can't possibly still be growing. If you don't stop soon, you'll end up as tall as the main mast.'

'No sir. I'll try not to, sir' Ross shot Jim a look over the table and Jim smiled in reply, hiding it behind his hand.

After an extensive dinner they returned to his cabin, where Jim instructed him on how to tie his hammock correctly. Once done, Jim inspected it and then looked at Ross expectantly.

‘Well?’ He was clearly waiting for him to try it out. Ross was not convinced and said so.

“It will hold your weight, have no fear.’ Jim assured him and Ross snorted.

‘That’s not what is worrying me.’ he grumbled. 'It’s how to get in the blasted thing in the first place.’

‘Well it’s your own fault for being too tall. Otherwise you could take the other bunk.’ Jim was bordering on laughter again, his light eyes sparkling with merriment.

Ross snorted in a most ungentlemanly fashion.

‘You’d have to fold me in half to get me in there. I’m not as used to sleeping in matchboxes as you appear to be.’ He contemplated his dilemma for a minute then turned back.

‘Turn around,’ he said and Jim, who had just hung up his coat and was busy untying his neck cloth, frowned at him.

‘What on earth for?’ He sounded a little astonished.

‘If I am to make an absolute arse of myself getting in this thing,I would prefer to do so without you judging me.’ Ross said and contemplated sleeping on the floor for about the fifth time since they had begun their little enterprise.

‘Ah, but I have already judged you Lieutenant Poldark.’ Jim said, and something flashed in his blue eyes that gave Ross that disquieting feeling again. ‘Although you may wish to take off your coat and boots before you try.’ He watched Ross comply then made a show of turning his back on him.

Ross sighed, and made his first attempt. All that happened was that he ended up twisting himself up in the thing, making him curse out loud. Blushing furiously, he glared at Jim’s back, which was shaking with supressed laughter.

‘You know,’ Even Jim's damn voice was shaking, ‘I could just show you how to do it.’

‘Not bloody likely.’ Ross snapped, ‘I will not be outwitted by a piece of canvas.’ He made several more attempts, each one more hopeless than the last, before giving up in disgust.

‘All right,’ he said in resignation. ‘Show me but don’t make a production out of it.’ He stood with folded arms and watched in ill-concealed envy as Jim deftly manoeuvred the hammock and flopped back into it with no difficulty at all.

‘See,’ he said, settling in. ‘Perfectly comfortable.’ He threw Ross that wicked smile of his again.

'That may be.' Ross snorted. 'But I'd like to see you get out of it as easily.'

'Of course.' Jim chuckled and to add insult to injury he twisted out of it just as easily. ‘Now you try and I will promise not to make any further judgements on your character based on your ability to get into bed.’

Ross muttered but followed his instructions and managed to wriggle into something resembling a reasonable position to sleep in. Jim extinguished the lamp and climbed into his bunk, still snickering. He soon quietened though and Ross closed his eyes, feeling sleep coming on quickly.

His last thought was that, in spite of all his protestations, the hammock was actually very comfortable.


	2. Life At Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HMS Dragon – Senior Ship’s Company
> 
> Commissioned Officers:
> 
> Captain Marcus Sellar  
> Captain Arthur Sturgess - Master of Marines  
> Lieutenant Oliver Smith - Second in Command to Sturgess  
> First Lieutenant Jonathan ‘Jack’ Halford  
> Second Lieutenant William Preston  
> Third Lieutenant James Hawkins
> 
> Midshipmen:
> 
> William Blythe aged 12  
> Thomas Riley aged 14  
> Peter Lee aged 13  
> Walter Wrenham aged 13  
> William Stirling aged 17
> 
> Warrant Officers:
> 
> Arthur Kent – Boatswain  
> Michael Fletcher – Sailing Master  
> Charles Campbell – Ship’s Gunner  
> Roger Black – Ship’s Carpenter  
> Henry Isaacs – Ship’s Purser  
> Robert Staines – Ship’s Surgeon
> 
> Petty Officers:
> 
> Edward Craddock – Sailmaster’s Mate   
> Robert Croft – Boatswain’s Mate  
> Alfred Lamb – Captain’s Steward
> 
> Jim’s Watch includes Mr Riley, Mr Lee, Mr Blythe, Mr Craddock and Mr Fletcher.

_First day At Sea,1776_

Ross was shaken awake by a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, feeling the grogginess of being woken before one would choose, and blinked at Jim who was already dressed and ready for watch. Ross noted that he was cleanly shaven and wore a new stock. Jim smiled at him, already far too bright eyed and bushy tailed for such an ungodly hour.

‘I am terribly sorry to disturb you,’ he said, clearly trying to hide his amusement at Ross' grouchiness. ‘However, your estimable presence is required on the Morning Watch.’

‘Remind me to tell you that your naval timekeeping system is abominable.’ Ross muttered rubbing his eyes. Jim laughed.

‘There’s hot water for shaving.’ He left Ross to struggle his way of the hammock and get ready.

Ross managed to get out of the hammock without doing himself an injury and shaved and dressed, something of a challenge as he was still getting used to the movement of the ship. He eventually came up on deck to find that there was a surprising number of hands at work, all very busy with their assigned tasks. Men were coming down from the rigging, as their replacements were going up and exchanging greetings and there was plenty of conversation up and down the lines. There was also a light fog which gave the lamplight an eerie feel and reminded him of home. He made his way to the quarterdeck where Jim was talking to Preston, who was just coming off watch. He gave Ross a friendly nod of greeting and included him in the conversation.

‘All’s quiet,’ he said, ‘With luck this will be an uneventful watch.’

‘No-one civilised should be awake at this time.’ Ross stuck his hands under his armpits and glowered at Jim, getting a dimpled smile in response.

‘You’ll get used to it. You’ll find you develop an ability to sleep anywhere and at any time.’ Preston remarked and moved off to greet Mr Fletcher. He spent a moment speaking to him about the lack of clear skies and Fletcher grunted something Ross didn’t quite catch before he moved off down deck towards the bow while Jim moved to Ross’ side.

'What's that about?' he asked.

‘Navigation.’ Jim said, ‘You cannot see the stars tonight, and I was going to give Riley and Lee a lesson.’ He nodded towards two midshipmen, who were hanging around shyly by the front of the wheel and giving Ross surreptitious looks.

Jim beckoned them over and Ross got a look at them. The taller and older of the two was gangly and clumsy looking, obviously in that adolescent stage when his body was growing too quickly for him to have become accustomed to it yet, whereas the other seemed to be afflicted with the opposite problem as he was as round as a ball with dark brown hair and dark eyes. He reminded Ross for some reason of a hedgehog, and the timid smile he gave him set the image off perfectly.

‘Lads, this is Lieutenant Poldark.’ Jim said, ‘He will be keeping watch with us, so I want you to look after him. Make sure he doesn’t fall overboard or anything like that.’

‘Aye, Mr Hawkins.’ they said in unison and nodded to Ross, who nodded back while trying not to smile at their grave expressions.

‘Excellent. Mr Riley you have the hourglass tonight. Let’s see if you can keep time properly for a change, shall we?’ Jim's expression was kind, but stern.

‘Aye, sir.’ Riley said, and gave Lee a superior look.

‘And you Mr Lee are to observe Mr Craddock tonight. I want a report of the movements of the ship at the end of watch.’ Jim had turned to the other boy.

‘But we were supposed to be doing navigation this watch.’ Lee protested, falling silent when Jim raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Aye sir, watch the wheel sir.’

‘Off you go then.’ Jim said, and both boys moved away to their respective posts. ‘They’re good lads but they struggle with the routine sometimes.’

‘When I was that age you would have been hard pressed to keep me indoors.’ Ross said, ‘I ran wild, and drove my poor mother to distraction.' He gave Jim a sidelong look. So, what task do you have for me Hr Hawkins?’

‘Yours is to keep me awake.’ Jim said, grinning at him.

‘And how do you propose I should do that?’ Ross raised an eyebrow.

‘Conversation is a highly prized commodity in the service Lieutenant.' Jim pointed out. 'And you are a stranger to this ship so you will have conversation that no one has heard before. I intend to take advantage of that fact, especially seeing as I have already heard all of Craddock’s stories.’

‘What would you like to converse about?’ Ross was curious. He'd never before found someone who'd thought his stories worth listening to.

‘I have never been to Cornwall. Tell me what it is like.’ Jim said and Ross shrugged.

‘It’s like anywhere I suppose. Perhaps a bit wilder than some places, but very beautiful.’ he frowned as he struggled to think of what else to say.

‘And your family?’ Jim persisted.

‘Tin mining.’ Ross replied. ‘But my father bought me my commission largely to keep me from running wild into adulthood. And yours?’

‘Nothing nearly as grand.’ Jim smiled. Ross was about to ask for an elaboration, but Fletcher came up on the quarterdeck and held a hushed conversation with Jim before moving off into the dark again.

Ross gave Jim a questioning look.

‘My apologies but I have to attend to a matter Mr Fletcher feels is of great urgency.’ Jim explained. ‘Perhaps we can continue comparing family trees a little later.’ He nodded to Mr Craddock and followed Fletcher down the deck. He did not return and so Ross found himself left on the quarterdeck.

The Morning Watch proved to be eerily silent. It was no longer completely dark, although the light filtering through was anaemic at best. The fog had really set in, beading cold droplets on Ross’ exposed skin, before running down into his stock and collar and numbing his fingers. He had lost track of time at the beginning of the watch, with Riley’s explanation of the hourglass and ship’s bells eluding him at first, so now he counted off the time to himself. Both Riley and Lee were trying their level best to stand still and keep warm at the same time, which resulted in a constant shifting back and forth on the balls of their feet, and running surreptitious fingers around their own collars. Riley had also developed a magnificent sniff.

Fletcher and Jim were at the bow somewhere in the fog and on deck other hands were going about their tasks, scrubbing the decks or checking rigging and speaking in voices that had dwindled to low murmurs. Craddock have proven to be most amiable and had engaged Ross in conversation once he had heard that Ross was from Cornwall, stating that his wife had was from down Penzance way. They had chatted back and forth about Craddock’s family and his own and places they knew in common. The boys listened, interjecting every now and then with their own questions, growing progressively bolder, until they had fairly commandeered the conversation asking question after question. Ross was starting to feel like he was undergoing interrogation, albeit in the nicest way possible. The boys were so enthusiastic and hung on every word he said so he couldn’t really begrudge having to answer in such quick succession until a question came that he really should have anticipated, but hadn’t.

‘Do you know any smugglers?’ Riley asked, sniffing loudly. Caught off guard, Ross started visibly at his question and then cursed himself for it. He looked to Craddock, who gave Ross a grin and a roll of the eyes. Ross put on a straight face. It surely wouldn’t do for the crew of the Dragon, and his own men for that matter, to find out that that was precisely why he was here in the first place. He was also well aware of the disregard that sailors had for smuggling.

‘Maybe one or two,’ he said lightly, giving the boys a wink.

‘Lads, I would remind you that you are speaking to an officer in His Majesty’s Army.’ Craddock said in a warning tone. ‘I hardly think the Lieutenant would keep such company. It wouldn’t be fitting and neither is this line of questioning. Lieutenant Poldark is no more a smuggler than Mr Hawkins is a pirate.’

That remark made Ross prick up his ears.

‘Aye Mr Craddock.’ they chimed and that fortunately ended the smuggling conversation. They wandered down the quarterdeck together and Ross could hear furious whispering.

‘The lads mean well but they let their imaginations run away with themselves at times.’ Craddock said. “Having said that I doubt there’s a man alive in Cornwall who hasn’t had a brush with the law.’ He gave Ross a knowing smile and Ross realised that Craddock was a lot more observant than he appeared and resolved to keep his emotions under tighter control.

‘What did you mean about Mr Hawkins and being a pirate? Surely that is a terrible implication to make of a naval officer?’ he asked.

‘My meaning was that he is not one.’ Craddock replied evenly. ‘Although, like you, there is more than meets the eye to our Third Lieutenant. You should ask him yourself if you are interested. It makes for an excellent yarn.’

‘Yesterday he stated that he is not a gentleman.’ Ross mused, more to himself than anything else.

‘Aye, that much is true. His origins are humble, but he comports himself as do the best of us. His service has been exemplary.’ Craddock replied.

‘How long have you known him?’ Ross asked.

‘Since he came aboard as a midshipman, and that was a good seven years ago. A bright lad and as brave as you like, if a little foolhardy.’ Craddock chuckled. He turned his attention to the lads, who had wondered back up again.

‘It’s fearsomely damp.’ Riley muttered, still sniffing loudly and going to wipe his nose on his sleeve. Lee saw this and gave him a sharp smack on the arm.

‘Don’t Tom,’ he implored. ‘Halford will have your skin if you snot on your coat again. And we will have to bear another sermon on cleanliness.’

Ross unsuccessfully tried to suppress a smile at this. Even though they were dressed in uniform, it was all too easy to see them as children.

‘That he will Mr Riley, as long as I don’t get to you first.’ Jim’s voice floated out of the fog and he soon followed. Like the others he was showing signs of damp, with small droplets clinging to his black hat and on the shoulders of his coat. ‘It will be time soon Mr Riley and I see that you are not keeping an eye on the glass.’

Riley jumped into action, moving to where the hour glass was suspended, and watching it intently. Jim chuckled under his breath and nudged Ross with his elbow.

‘That boy has the attention span of a gnat.’ he said coming to stand alongside Craddock, who also chuckled.

‘I remember a lad who couldn’t keep time once. Always daydreaming of high adventure.’ He gave Jim a pointed look.

‘That couldn’t possibly have been me.’ Jim replied, ‘I have had enough adventure for a lifetime.’

Craddock snorted.

‘If that were the case you would never have come to sea.’ he observed. They watched as Riley turned the glass as it emptied and then rang the ship’s bell four times.

‘Six o’clock.’ Ross said and Jim and Craddock both looked him.

‘Aye, only two more hours and then we can go from wet to slightly damp.’ Jim replied. He caught Ross’ eye and they both laughed at that.

*****************

Following that first night, Ross soon discovered that dampness appeared to be a default state at sea. He had also discovered that being up on deck was the best place to be as it afforded the chance to dry out in the sun and access to as much fresh air as he wanted, something that was severely lacking below decks. With that in mind, he endeavoured to be there as often as possible.

It was three weeks into the journey to Halifax. The weather and wind had been with them and Ross had settled well into his sea legs. The days were not arduous, with most of his duties in a supervisory capacity helping Howard organise the enlisted men into work teams and ensuring they carried out their own duties. There was also practice for reloading and firing the muskets on a daily basis to keep the men in form by shooting at a floating barrel lobbed into the water. He had also been able to watch the gun crews in action and had marvelled at the discipline with which they operated. The manner in which the Dragon’s youngest officers had commanded their crews, each competing to reload and fire in the quickest time, had also impressed him.

The food was no worse and on most days better than that he’d been used to in the regimental barracks. The only thing he truly could not abide was the lemon he was pressed to eat every day, and the fiendishly strong grog that the sailors drank like water. Other things also came as a surprise, such as the stern instruction to never whistle or sing aboard the ship or the fact that Jim had warned him to hide his pocket watch away in his gear and make no mention of having brought it aboard. The entire ship was steeped in superstition it seemed.

Jim had proven himself to be a fine companion. Their close proximity in age and the fact that Preston and Halford were as thick as thieves meant that they were more often than not thrown together. Halford now routinely assigned Ross the same watches as Jim and in the ensuing conversation Ross found him to possess a keen sense of humour, which was coupled with a surprisingly strong character. He talked freely about himself and his mother, relating the tales of his early travels and enlightening Ross as to the nature of the pirate comments. However, Ross' initial assessment of him being of a purely cheerful disposition had held until he had seen Jim give one of the sailors a tongue lashing of some note. The normally open expression had darkened as quickly as a Cornish sky, gold brows drawn down fiercely over eyes that flashed a stormy grey and a look of passionate anger had swept across his face.

And with that he found something within himself changing ever so subtly. To begin with, his thoughts had been largely of home and Elizabeth, a memory he held close to his heart. That was until those first days when Ross had become painfully aware of the officer that had been assigned to look after him. He started to notice small details, like a hint of gold stubble at Jim’s jaw in the morning when he awoke and the smell he carried, like well-worn cloth, sun warmed wood and salt. But it wasn’t until Ross joined him below to watch him running the starboard guns under his command that he realised the sound of Jim’s voice shouting instructions to his crews, the supreme confidence in his actions and the air of command he carried had set his pulse racing, something he had only experienced before when courting Elizabeth and he found that it unnerved him greatly.

He was getting a good view of that fierce expression at the moment from his position on the quarterdeck. It was Afternoon Watch, one he was enjoying due to the civilised hour it held and the fact that the afternoon was bright and warm yet tempered by the light wind that carried the Dragon along on gentle waves. Jim was down on the main gun deck, and he watched him as unobtrusively as possible. It was strange how he now drew Ross’ glance like a moth to a flame, something he could not reasonably account for. He was aware of the unnatural tendencies mentioned when the enlisted men muttered about sailors, but he was more than certain as to his own preferences which, up till very recently, had not included his current bunkmate. And yet he found himself unable to look away, admiring the certain way in which Jim instructed the junior warrant officers under his watch and his fluid movements about deck.

**********

Jim, having finished admonishing the crewman was now headed back towards the quarterdeck and Ross quickly averted his gaze to the horizon as he looked up to the quarterdeck, trying not to stare too obviously at the young army officer. Ross was looking fixedly out at something, although Heavens knew what there was to look at in the Atlantic. He took a moment to take in the tall, angular figure shown off so well by his fitted red coat, his pale skin and dark, almost black hair standing out against the bright colour. Jim had long since made peace with his tastes and was no stranger to admiring an attractive young man, but there was something about Ross that he couldn’t quite define. Preston and Halford had already guessed something was up and had taken to needling him about it when Ross was not present. Still, even if he was so inclined, it wouldn’t have been done to make his appreciation known. That was best left to shore leave, when he could chase after what he wanted in a discreet manner. Captain Sellar was a tolerant man, but even he drew the line at officers committing indiscretions on board. Even if those indiscretions were to be committed with an extremely attractive army officer who Jim would no doubt never see again at the end of this particular voyage. Jim’s gaze came to rest on Ross again, only to see those damnable dark eyes watching him. The sunlight must have been playing tricks on him because he could have sworn that Ross’ eyes widened marginally as their gazes met before abruptly breaking away.

********

Ross swore under his breath. Jim had just caught him staring at him like an absolute idiot. He had no idea why the other man was having such an effect on him. He felt short of breath and strangely light headed. Unable to keep it inside himself, he moved down from the quarterdeck brushing past Jim as he went and only stopping when he called out after him. Even so, he didn't quite turn, fearful that he would give himself away.

‘Are you all right Ross?’ Jim sounded concerned but he did not lift his head to look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on his feet.

‘Too much sun I think. A time below deck should see me right.’ Ross tried not to sound too brusque then headed below, where he could be out of the sun for a short while and away from those blue eyes that inexplicably made his heart speed up.

He spent the rest of his watch talking with the enlisted men, listening to grievances and checking equipment. He knew that the long weeks were wearing for soldiers who were not used to being confined in one place for so long, so partly with that in mind and partly to avoid Jim he got them to run musket drills and when that was done Ross begged a barrel from the ship’s cook and sent it overboard for firing practice. Normally he would have simply overseen the men but this afternoon he felt the need for the feel of a musket in his hands and joined them in firing and reloading from the forecastle. At one point he turned and discovered that he had an audience. The midshipmen had gathered into a silent huddle, and were watching, while still trying desperately to look like they were doing something, all clutching the parchment and charcoal that they had been using to make notations. Preston stood next to them, an amused look on his long thin face. He reminded Ross of an inland heron, with his long limbs and jet black hair. His eyes were pale, almost colourless, and they were full of amusement at his charges.

‘You cut a fine figure Lieutenant,’ he remarked in his usual dry tones. ‘I think our lads are quite taken with you.’

‘I’m sure it’s the musket and not I that have captured their attention.’ Ross replied, catching young Will Blythe’s eye and winking. Blythe grinned enormously and nodded, his eyes running over the musket with ill-concealed envy.

‘Could we have a go?’ he asked, in the breathless voice that only an extremely enthusiastic boy could achieve.

‘I think not.’ Ross said, ‘I would not want to be responsible for anyone blowing off a toe.’ That earned him a collective sigh of disappointment, which was only remedied by allowing the boys to take turns in handling the musket under the close supervision of Lieutenant Smith, the junior officer of the detachment of Royal Marines Ross had only met in passing and at dinner. He now had the opportunity to speak with him, with the Lieutenant admiring his musket and presenting his own for inspection resulting in an extended debate as to the comparatives strengths of the Long Pattern musket Ross carried with his Sea Service one. Smith was in his late twenties, a hawk faced young man with a keen eye, and it wasn’t long before he and Ross were engaged in a friendly competition over marksmanship.

This drew a slightly larger crowd as sailor, soldier and officer alike drew in a little closer to watch. Ross allowed himself a smile as he heard the distinctive sound of bets being surreptitiously made. He was proud of his marksmanship, something that he found came naturally to him. Smith called it a round of the best of ten shots and he agreed readily. A fresh barrel was produced, carefully weighted at one end with a strip of red cloth was nailed to the lighter side. It was thrown in the water, eventually righting itself so the red cloth was uppermost. Orders were given to come about and the ship traced a wide arc that bought the barrel just within a hundred yards. Smith and Ross both designated a second to reload for them and the competition was on.

The first set of shots missed, as both took measure of the wind and current. The next saw Smith’s shot fall slightly short but Ross was pleased to see that his had nicked the side. He gave Smith a grin bordering on feral. Smith took up the challenge in kind and both hit the barrel on the next volley. The next five shots followed in quick succession with Smith hitting three and Ross hitting four.

‘By my count I believe that puts my man one shot ahead of yours.’ Ross turned at the voice to see Howard and Sellar had joined the watching party.

‘That may be, but there are still three shots in it. Too early to count chickens by my reckoning.’ Sellar replied.

Two more shots followed with one miss and a hit for Ross, while Smith remained steady and hit both. By now the barrel had drifted to what seemed to be beyond the hundred yard mark. Smith shaded his eyes and peered at it.

‘I think we might both be done for on this last one,’ he mused. Ross was about to suggest a draw when he noticed that Jim had joined the crowd and was standing with the midshipmen, who were watching himself and Smith with expressions that were bordering on idolatry. Their gazes locked and held for what seemed a fraction too long and then Jim gave him that same mocking smile he had given him that very first day. Ross felt his breath catch ever so slightly. He broke the gaze, taking up his reloaded musket. Smith laughed out loud.

‘Very well then, and I must say that if you hit your mark I will be happy to stand you a bottle of your choosing when we are next in port.’ His dark eyes twinkled.

‘Your shot, sir.’ Ross said and swore that he could feel the weight of Jim’s eyes on his back. Smith took aim, and the entire crowd fell silent. The sound of the shot seemed almost deafening but there was no telltale puff of splinters.

‘A miss! Damn it to hell.’ Smith roared but his tone was good natured. He turned to Ross. ‘Well it looks to be yours to lose, Ross.’

Ross approached the side and raised his musket, sighting along the barrel and steadying his breathing. The red cloth was now dry and fluttered in his sights. He drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly and then pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and for a second he couldn’t tell if he had hit the barrel, until he suddenly realised that the flutter of red had completely disappeared.

‘Well, I’ll be blessed.’ Smith said, his voice now filled with respect. ‘You shot the damned cloth clear off.’

Ross was unable to move at first, and kept staring at where the shot had hit, until a strong hand came down on his shoulder. He turned and saw it was Sturgess and that the Captain was giving him a considering look.

‘That was a fine shot indeed and one that Smith will be most glad to lose to. My only wish is that I could convince you to break ranks and stay aboard permanently.’ He smiled and moved on and Ross stood, a little amazed at the compliment. Smith’s face was creased in an earnest grin and Ross returned it in kind. Behind him the collected men had broken out into cheers from the soldiers and mutters from the marines. The midshipmen were unable to contain themselves and Ross once again found himself at the centre of a mob of small and not so small boys. He looked over their heads and saw Jim still leaning against the board and looking appraisingly at him. Ross raised his chin slightly and stared back at him as boldly as he dared, feeling strangely elated at the momentary confusion that ghosted over Jim’s face although he was quick to revert and nodded almost imperceptibly before he turned and walked back to the quarterdeck.

**********

Jim ascended the quarterdeck, only to find Preston hot on his heels.

‘I saw that you know.’ he said, pitching his voice low.

‘Saw what exactly?’ Jim replied, feigning ignorance.

‘That look, between you and the dashing lieutenant.’ Preston was all but crowing at him and it irritated Jim intensely to have been caught out.

‘You are mistaken Preston, there was no look.’ Jim said, studiously avoiding his gaze. Preston chuckled.

‘I have known you an awfully long time, Jim. I know when you find someone of interest. And, quite frankly it’s been an age since you found someone who caught your attention.’ He smiled at Jim, his face a picture of innocence. ‘I’m merely suggesting that maybe you should loosen your ties a little and find some enjoyment before you become so old you forget what to do with it.’

**********

Later that evening, both Smith and Ross found themselves on the receiving end of an invitation to the Captain’s table, along with Howard, Preston, Jim and Kent. The atmosphere was jovial, with Smith attempting to make a start on his earlier promise. Ross appeared to still be riding the wave from earlier sitting well away from him at the far end, with Smith on his one side and Kent on his other. Jim was a little relieved at the physical distance that had been enforced on them and watched as Ross took the opportunity to engage both Smith and Kent in conversation. Preston was sitting opposite him, his pale eyes seeming to never leave Jim’s face.

Jim glared back at him. He knew that expression, especially when Preston allowed his eyes to flick down the table in Ross’ direction. Jim kicked him under the table and Preston gave him a warning look. Conversation turned, as it inevitably did, to military affairs as dinner was served and the evening seemed to be passing uneventfully. That was until there was a lull in conversation and Preston decided to press his advantage.

‘Gentlemen, a toast.’ He raised his glass, happily ignoring the poisonous look Jim shot him, before addressing himself to Ross and Captain Howard.

‘I do believe our friends in His Majesty’s Army have the same traditions as ourselves.’ Preston said and Jim groaned inwardly as he realised where Preston was headed.

‘I believe we do.’ Howard replied, his eyes twinkling. 'Please continue.'

‘Excellent. To wives and sweethearts.’ Preston said, and they all followed suit. Preston looked at Jim in unabashed amusement and Jim could feel a sense of trepidation take hold of him.

‘May they never meet,’ he said through slightly gritted teeth, as his status as youngest officer present required. They all drank, Preston still smiling merrily at his obvious discomfort. Jim sincerely hoped that was the end of it.

It was not.

‘So what of it Lieutenant Poldark?’ Preston called down the table to Ross, who looked up with a slightly startled expression at being addressed so directly. ‘Is there a sweetheart waiting for you back home in Cornwall?’

Ross looked around at the other now expectant expressions, and Jim prayed fervently that something would happen to interrupt dinner, like a well-timed attack by the French.

‘In fact I do.’ he replied, and Preston’s eyes practically sparkled at that news.

‘Indeed. Is she quite lovely, or is that too presumptuous to ask?’ he asked, flat ignoring the fact that Jim was now almost attempting to amputate his left leg below the knee.

‘I find her so.’ Ross stammered, looking like he wanted to fall through the decks.

‘It is one of the great disadvantages of being in the service of course.’ Preston said. ‘There are simply too few opportunities to meet suitable young women with whom to form an affection. Take Mr Hawkins, for example. He is a fine looking man, don’t you think?’

Jim, gripped his knife tightly and desperately tried to keep a rein on his temper, which was threatening to reach across the table and positively murder Preston at the first opportunity, etiquette be damned. Ross, for his part, was looking very uncomfortable at this sudden turn of conversation.

‘I suppose so.’ he replied hesitantly, ‘Although I am probably not the best to judge.’

‘And yet he has found no sweetheart.’ Preston said airily. ‘It is a great pity for he has much to offer. However, he has particular tastes which are difficult to accommodate.’

‘And what exactly would those be?’ Jim snapped, unable to bear Preston’s outrageous teasing any further. He could practically feel his face burning at this point.

‘Why I do believe you have expressed a particular predilection for dark hair, a slender figure, excellent skills with a …’ Preston got no further, shut down by a look from Jim which left him in no doubt as to the fact that they would both be keelhauled if the conversation continued.

‘Gentlemen.’ Sellar rumbled with quiet authority. That was enough to make both of them fall silent, and the rest of the meal passed in peace.

*********

After dinner Howard called Ross to the top gun deck to discuss various matters.

Ross listened with half an ear to reiterations of orders and duties, but he kept thinking back to the remarks at dinner. The knowing tone of Preston’s voice bothered him and he knew there was clearly something going on that he was not privy to. Once Howard released him from the conversation he retreated below decks, dodging various crewmen until he reached the lower deck. Most enlisted men not on watch were in their hammocks, bunched together like sacks. Ross could hear the laughter and loud conversation of the various warrant officers who were scattered about the mess table in the gunroom, engaged in mundane activities.

The midshipmen had managed to wedge themselves into the larboard Midshipmen’s berth, their faces rapt while they listened to Preston read from Moll Flanders from where he was squeezed in one corner. Captain Sellar was not above making sure that a steady supply of sensationalist literature was aboard as much for the relief of the older officers, as for the entertainment of the younger. The boys were inclined to hijinks when they became bored and Ross himself had been on the receiving end of several mysterious messages to present himself to the Officer of the Watch, which he had duly followed, much to their delight not once but three times, until Jim had pulled him aside and explained their little game. There had also been an attempt to hide his boots but Jim had caught them in the middle of that particular prank and boxed the ears of not just the culprit but every last midshipman. Ross had then been assured that it would not happen again, and that it was in fact a strange sort of compliment as the boys tended to completely dismiss anyone they didn’t like.

He moved past them, and saw Fletcher was in his cabin, trying his best to shave in less than ideal conditions. The older man glanced up and nodded in acknowledgement. Jim was in their shared cabin, reading on his bunk. He did not look up as Ross approached or lower his book. Ross made himself ready for sleep and managed an effective, if not particularly graceful entry to his hammock. Once in he turned his attention to the book Jim was trying to hide behind.

‘What are you reading?’ he asked.

‘Herodotus.’ Jim's voice was clipped.

‘Greek?’ Ross asked, unable to hide his surprise.

‘Yes.’ Jim replied, narrowing his eyes at him over the top of the book. ‘You sound surprised.’

‘I didn’t think someone who willingly confesses to not being a gentleman would bother with the original Greek.’ Ross said, making his tone light in view of the awkwardness of dinner. The look he got in return, however, was anything but amused and he was surprised to find that it stung him to the quick.

‘I may not be a gentleman such as yourself, but that does not mean I lack for education.’ Jim said, and there was a distinct bite to his words. At a loss, Ross dropped his gaze.

‘My apologies,’ he said, ‘I did not mean it in such a manner.’

‘Then have a care for what you say next time.’ Jim said, his voice unchanged. He placed the book aside and got up, taking his coat and boots and leaving the cabin.

Ross watched him go, confounded at how that ferocity that he’d seen on deck that afternoon had just been directed towards him. He leaned from the hammock to blow out the lamp, almost tipping himself out in the process, before settling back in to wait for sleep.

***********

Up on deck Jim looked up, letting his eyes trace the familiar patterns in the sky, listing them in his head.

_Polaris, Cassiopeia, Orion, Canis Major, Canis Minor._

He repeated them like a mantra, feeling himself beginning to relax as he did so.

He hadn’t meant to get so angry, however, he had let himself be badly rattled by Preston at dinner and in doing so had all but confirmed that he had in interest in the young lieutenant who seemed to be completely oblivious to the scandal he was causing and which would no doubt be the subject of further mirth.

As much as Jim appreciated the understanding of his friends and fellow lieutenants, they didn’t half like to make fun of him if the opportunity arose. Not that Preston and Halford had a leg to stand on, mind. Their grand romance had driven Jim to distraction as their only official confidante.

Captain Sellar, in an unusual fit of sloth, had stopped off for a week of shore leave in Port Royal which had fortunately allowed them to consummate their relationship out of sight and out of mind of the other men on the promise from Jim that they would take no action while aboard ship, under threat of being dropped overboard with a cannonball in each pocket. Unlike many ship’s captains, Sellar was not particularly bothered by the action of his crew so long as they had no impact on the running of the ship. As far as he was concerned, what they did on shore leave was entirely up to them. Jim knew though of the penalties that would be paid if found out, and kept his private life very much to himself. It was not hard to find a willing partner in port and he was usually satisfied with these encounters. But this was starting to become something else altogether and he needed to get it under control as soon as possible. The teasing comment from Ross had rubbed him quite the wrong way and his sensitivity about his place in the crew, as unwarranted as it may be, had made him snappish, something he was now regretting.

He sighed and settled back against the stern railing, looking up into the sky. It looked to be a long night.


	3. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a storm on the horizon...in more ways than one.

It had been a week since the dinner of infinite embarrassment, as Jim liked to think of it.

He had apologised to Ross the next day for his outburst and was relieved when he appeared to be none the wiser for the reason. Since then, they had gone back to much the same way they had been before. He did what he normally did and threw himself into his duties. Ross seemed to be doing the same and their easy camaraderie continued. It set them both at ease and Jim felt like he'd never enjoyed a crossing quite as much as he was enjoying this one.

The weather had remained good as well, with clear blue skies and light winds leading Jim to remark that they were making good time and should arrive in Halifax in the next three to four weeks.

He was now up on the forecastle deck with all the midshipmen gathered around him. Fletcher had been instructing them in the use of their sextants but had grown irritated with their persistent questioning and abandoned them, retreating to the relative peace and quiet of the quarterdeck. Jim had taken over, having a considerably larger store of patience for the boys. Intrigued by what they were doing, Ross had tagged along and stood watching as Jim instructed the boys, turning frequently to explain the principles to Ross, in a running conversation that frequently included remonstrations of the boys who were suffering from the worst combination of high spirits, good weather and a lack of concentration.

‘The principle is simple. You have two points of reference, one being the horizon and the other a celestial point of your choosing. Look to your sextant, Mr Lee! Once you have these two points, you use the sextant to take a sight, which is the angle between your two objects. You then use the angle in conjunction with the time to calculate a line of position on the chart. Mr Riley if you cannot keep your hands to yourself, I will be sure to find another job for them which will be less to your liking!’ Jim managed to inject just enough authority into his voice that they all fell into line.

‘Aye sir.’ This was followed by a shuffling of bodies, as the boys jostled to get the best position at the side.

‘That does sound very useful. We only navigate by use of a compass and landmarks.’ Ross said, giving Riley a nudge as the boy crowded up against him in an attempt to avoid a retaliatory dig to the ribs from Blythe.

‘Aye it is.’ Jim agreed, ‘We can also use it for other purposes as well. Mr Stirling.’ He called to the oldest midshipman who was at the far end of the rail and the only one completely focused on the task at hand. ‘Would you like to elaborate on the further uses of a sextant for our land locked compatriot?’

‘Aye sir,’ Stirling said. ‘We use the sextant to obtain the distance off a landmark, the distance between objects and latitude if we measure the distance between the Moon and another celestial object.’

Stirling was a serious young man, almost as tall as Ross with grave grey eyes. He looked to Jim for approval and his eyes lit up when Jim gave him a nod.

‘Very good Mr Stirling.’ Jim said. ‘Perhaps once you have given us a noon reading you will be so kind as to examine the rest of these ragamuffins on the finer points of their lesson today.’

Furtive groans followed this, but Stirling looked pleased.

‘Aye sir.’ he said and turned back to his reading.

‘He’s such an awful swot.’ Riley hissed to Blythe. Ross looked at them pointedly and they dropped their heads a little.

‘That may be Mr Riley. But I would wager a full month’s pay on the fact that when Mr Stirling takes his lieutenant’s examination he will pass with flying colours, which is more than I can say for you at present.’ Jim admonished without turning and both boys flinched visibly at having been caught out. ‘I also think that the reason for your distinct lack of concentration is an abundance of energy. Perhaps we can remedy that with a climb to the top of the fore mast and a spell in the weather, what say you.’

‘Aye sir,’ they both sighed, dejection clear on their faces.

‘Well then,’ Jim had a distinct tone to his voice that Ross now recognised as amusement ‘I’m sure that Mr Lee will hold your coats and hats.’

The boys exchanged looks but didn’t argue any further as they shucked their coats and handed them off to Lee, who had his arms outstretched like a horizontal coat rack, before dumping their hats on top.

‘Now, Mr Lee will give us a count of ten, which is how long you will have to get a head start before I begin my ascent. If I make it up before the two of you, you will also both be presenting a report on the history of navigation to Lieutenant Poldark. And you will be thankful that it will end there and not have the both of you kissing the gunner’s daughter.’ Jim instructed.

At that there was a frantic scramble for the rigging. Grinning widely Jim took off his coat and hat and handed them to Lee, who was peering up into the rigging with unabashed delight at the turn of events. Ross had already discovered that all the younger boys had a very wide streak of schadenfreude running through them.

‘You’re going up?’ he asked and Jim nodded.

‘Nothing like a brisk climb to get the blood flowing, isn’t that right Mr Lee?’ He winked at the pudgy boy, who nodded, and undid his cuffs to turn his sleeves back. ‘I, however, will be coming back down, whereas those two troublemakers will be there until the end of watch.’

And with that he made for the rigging, climbing up like a cat. Lee and Ross watched him catch up to the boys easily, and exchanged a smile.

*********

They should have known better than to trust the weather and the next day dawned pearly pink and coral red. Jim spent some time watching the morning watch set to scrubbing the decks and setting the rigging. But, he also spent time letting his eyes rest on where Ross stood at the side rail, watching the sunrise. The lieutenant had shown a remarkably sentimental side, his gaze often caught by the glint of light off water or the play of light in the sky and Jim had even caught him stargazing when he thought no-one was looking. He had to admit though that the dawn light did suit Ross awfully well, flushing his pale skin with colour and bringing out the copper highlights in his hair while turning those dark hazel eyes almost golden. Jim would have been content to stand and look at him all watch. As it was, there was plenty to do as usual and Jim regretfully dragged himself away from his contemplation.

The end of Morning Watch was followed by breakfast in the gunroom, which was coffee, oatmeal and ship’s biscuit. The midshipmen had delighted in horrifying Ross in the first week when they had demonstrated how to knock out the weevils and Jim was amused to see that he now did it by default and as deftly as a naval hand. The rest of the morning was spent at rest, writing his journal and catching up on a bit of sleep.

By noon, the weather had taken a turn for the worse, starting with a persistent drizzle as Jim came back on deck for Afternoon Watch. Ross had stayed behind to assist Captain Howard in inspecting the soldiers below. Then, without warning, the mercury fell dramatically and the waves rose accordingly. Grey clouds blocked out the sun and rain started to blow over the decks in sheets. The discordant movement of the ship soon had many of the soldiers topside, making a frantic dash for the sides, where they hurled their guts into the sea in spectacular fashion. Much to Ross’ embarrassment both he and Captain Howard had also not proven immune, finding themselves alongside each other at one point, both looking particularly green.

‘Ah well,’ Howard said, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. ‘Better out than in, I suppose.’

Ross had not even been able to muster the energy to reply to that. Howard retreated below decks, but he felt infinitely better being in the open air and once his stomach was empty, he actually began to feel well enough to move about deck although he was subjected to a few pointed jibes from the midshipmen. He had half-heartedly swiped at Blythe and Riley for their last cheeky comment, but they had dodged him easily and run off for the quarterdeck, snickering loudly.

‘You know it won’t do to let them get the better of you like that.’ Jim remarked when he came up to his now customary position on the quarterdeck.

Ross scowled at him. Jim was, as usual, seemingly unaffected even by the heavy weather. He was standing aft of the wheel with Riley, Lee and Blythe, whose freckled face was screwed up against the rain and the water dripping off the brim of his hat.

‘I haven’t the inclination to fight back today.’ Ross muttered, leaning heavily against the capstan. Jim gave him a sympathetic look.

‘You’d be better off below.’ he suggested and Ross shook his head.

‘No I wouldn’t. The very air down there is foul.’ he replied.

‘Suit yourself, but at least stay in one place that’s out of the way. There is no sense in letting yourself get knocked about,’ Jim advised and Ross moved to stand with him and the two lads.

‘The trick is not to put your feet too close together until you are comfortable with the movement of the ship. That’s the mistake many people make.’ Riley remarked with all the gravity of an old hand.

‘And how could I remedy this Mr Riley?’ Ross asked, amused in spite of his predicament.

‘Like this, sir.’ Blythe chimed in. This then turned into a demonstration on the correct stance, which of course then degenerated into an argument.

‘No Will, your feet are too far apart.’ Riley pointed out with a superior tone.

‘They are not!’ Blythe protested.

‘They are. At the next pitch you are going to fall on your ar…’ Riley started but a bellow from Jim stopped him in his tracks.

‘Mr Riley! Language!’ He sounded quite ferocious and all of them, Ross included, jumped as one. Jim gave the boys a stern look but when they turned their backs he winked at Ross.

Ross replied with a smile and waited as between Riley and Blythe, he was manhandled into a stance they both believed was suitable while lee watched and tried not to giggle out loud.

‘Now all you have to do is stay still.’ Blythe said, crossing his arms and eyeing Ross with all the authority of a schoolmaster. 

‘Well, seeing as I am physically incapable of moving that should not present a problem.’ Ross replied, wincing at a particularly sharp lurch of the ship. Keeping one’s balance was like trying to dance blindfolded. It was clear to see who the land based men were, as they were all currently lurching about like reanimated corpses, himself included. He envied men like Craddock, whose very feet seemed to grow into the deck. He was at the wheel as usual, a look of deep serenity on his face. Ross remarked on this to Jim.

‘It comes from having salt water in your veins.’ Jim laughed.

‘Aye, that it is.’ Mr Craddock said, nodding sagely. ‘Been at sea thirty three years man and boy.’

‘He’s practically part of the ship.’ Riley whispered to Ross.

************

The weather worsened as the watch continued. The clouds were now almost black, bunching together angrily overhead. Jim watched the sky and frowned. Kent came up on quarterdeck and he turned to him.

‘What do you make of it Mr Kent?’ he asked and Kent peered into the gloom.

‘I don’t like it sir.’ he replied. ‘I should think about shortening her sails, sir. She’d look best in bare poles.’

‘Very good, Mr Kent. I am of a like mind.’ Jim said. ‘Set all hands to task, and I’ll have all visitors below.’ He turned to Blythe. ‘Mr Blythe would you please go down and request the Captain’s presence.’

‘Aye sir.’ Blythe headed down. Jim stepped forward.

‘Mr Craddock, steady as she goes if you please.’ he instructed, his tone brisk. Ross watched in interest, taken aback at the sudden change in Jim's manner.

‘Aye Mr Hawkins.’ the mate replied. Jim turned to Ross.

‘We will be in for some nasty weather shortly. When he comes up the Captain will order all visitors below and that means you, Ross.' He looked over at the boys. 'Riley, I want you and Lee down there as well to fetch your heavy coats. The last thing we need is you both catching another chill and infecting the entire crew.’

|The midshipmen nodded immediately and Ross started to protest the fact that he was being ordered out of the way, but Jim silenced him with a look.

‘It’s no slight on you Ross, but if you feel awful now, you will be so much worse off later when the weather hits. So go below, please. Riley, escort the Lieutenant and give him a quick show on how to ride this out, then back here smartly.’ Jim ordered.

‘Aye sir.’ Riley said, and he and Lee herded Ross off the quarterdeck between them, chattering about the need to shorten the sails for when the storm hit to prevent damage to the masts. Once below they stowed him in the gun room, where Captain Smith, Mr Isaacs, Mr Black and Mr Staines were already seated, then ran for the midshipmen’s berth to retrieve their heavy oilskin coats before heading back up on deck. Ross sat down with his captain and the warrants.

Mr Staines had looked up as Ross approached, a pleased expression on his face and now addressed him.

‘Ah Lieutenant.’ he greeted. ‘We were just lamenting the lack of a fourth. Do you play whist?’

‘I do, but very badly.’ Ross admitted, setting his hat aside and sitting down at the mess table.

‘That is neither here nor there.’ Isaacs assured him. ‘The point is you play. So many of these other philistines do not.’ This was directed at Mr Black, who snorted in response. ’We shall ride out this storm together in convivial fashion.’

‘Captain Howard has taken to his cot, looking as ill as a parrot.’ Staines remarked as he shuffled then offered to deck to Isaacs to cut for partners. His eyes twinkled. ‘You do not seem too worse for wear.’

‘I was earlier.’ Ross chuckled, accepting the deck from Isaacs and making his own cut, before passing it back to Staines. ‘I was just starting to get my legs when all visitors were ordered below.’

‘A good thing too.’ Smith replied. ‘I can smell a squall brewing. At that time the deck is hardly a place for a seasoned seaman, let alone soldiers like ourselves, however fine a shot we may be. That is why I know my place and keep well below. Now are we to pass out time in conversation like a bunch of old woman or are we going to play cards?’

**************

The waves had now also changed, the earlier choppiness giving way to deepening troughs and peaks driven by ever increasing wind. The pitch and yaw was becoming more extreme by the minute and the rain was much fiercer now, cutting across the deck almost laterally. Water ran off the sails in steady streams and washed across the deck making the footing slippery. Craddock took it all in stride, but Jim could see the boys were starting to strain under the relentless downpour.

Halford and Preston had come up and moved to the bow. Sellar had made his way onto the quarterdeck for Jim to report. Satisfied with what he had done, he took command of the deck and Jim moved to stand with Kent down on the starboard side of the main deck and watched as the men up top began reefing the sails. He could just hear the deep voice of Croft barking orders on the larboard side. This was not the first storm he had been caught in by a long shot, but it was turning particularly bad very quickly.

‘Lads.’ Sellar shouted over the noise of the wind to the midshipmen who had clustered together on the main deck, ’I think you’d best get below. Here.’ He came down and handed Riley his hat, ‘Take it down to Lamb. Mr Blythe, I’m sure Mr Hawkins would be obliged if you did the same for him and the other Lieutenants.’

‘Aye sir.’ Blythe said, accepting Jim’s hat and looking horribly relieved to be out of it.

‘And dry clothes once you’re down.’ Jim added to Blythe, who clutched the hat to his chest and made his way towards the bow before making a valiant attempt to move below as quickly as possible once he had retrieved Halford and Preston’s hats.

‘Mr Kent!’ Sellar had to fairly bellow now to make himself heard. ‘Down the hatches!’

‘Down the hatches, aye.’ came the faint reply. Sellar turned to Jim, one of his rare smiles on his usually stoic face.

‘I was beginning to think the weather gods wished me to die of boredom,’ he laughed and Jim joined in. Sellar liked nothing better than a storm, a view that had many fellow captains marking him as an unrepentant eccentric at best and a foolhardy daredevil at worst. But Jim knew the deftness with which his captain controlled the ship and how they had ridden out several storms in the Caribbean that would have had those same captains shitting themselves in their cabins.

*********

Down below, Mr Black had headed down to the ship’s well to keep an eye on things along with his mates. The four players continued, although conversation had dropped to only the murmured bids. Ross was frequently startled by the alarmingly loud creaks and groans of the ship and while the noise of the storm was significantly muffled inside the hull, the shifting of the ship was very loud in comparison to its normal state. He glanced overhead and Smith chuckled at the alarmed look on his face.

‘Your first storm at sea is always an experience.’ he informed him. ‘But have no fear. This crew is more than able. We’ve been through some squalls that would set your hair on end, and come out the other side. Captain Sellar is a master of harsh weather and Mr Kent and Mr Fletcher have seen more hurricanes than hot breakfasts I’ll warrant.’

‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.’ Ross replied, flinching involuntarily at a loud bang from below decks.

‘I remember ’73.’ Mr Isaacs mused.

‘Aye,’ Mr Staines nodded in agreement. ‘St Kitts and Nevis that was. There wasn’t a hand aboard that wasn’t at the board retching, our good selves included. Except of course for the captain.’

‘That’s accounted for by the fact that his wife has a temper that no storm could outmatch.’ Smith laughed, ‘I met her the last time we were in port. Red-haired lass and her character is every bit as fiery as her hair.’

‘A good seaman’s wife that one,’ Staines nodded. ‘She no doubt warms his bed well, if he remains as faithful as he does.’

That bought a general laugh and the game continued.

**********

Up top things were going from bad to worse. Halford and Preston had moved aft to the quarterdeck with some difficulty, each having to haul the other up a few times as great waves swamped the deck. Eventually, Preston battled up onto the quarterdeck, leaving Halford on the main.

‘It’s bloody awful.’ he shouted over the wind. ‘At this rate we’ll be lucky if we have splinters left after.’

‘Oh ye of little faith, Lieutenant.’ Sellar roared back, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘The Dragon has always remained true to us, so we should do her the favour of returning that confidence.’

Halford was competently directing the hands on the main deck, silent as usual. Jim was convinced that he and Sellar used some sort of bizarre telepathy to communicate. Preston moved to where Jim was standing as best he could, placing one hand on the rigging before he settled himself and leaned into the list of the ship.

‘We’re going to be drying out for a week after this.’ he shouted and Jim only nodded in agreement, his teeth chattering from the cold as another breaker came over the quarterdeck board. He could feel the chill setting in through his already drenched clothing. On the other side, Preston looked even paler than usual and his lips were blue. He kept looking back towards the main deck, not quite hiding the concern on his face.

‘He’ll be all right.’ Jim yelled, trying to reassure him. ‘He’s a better sailor than you are.’

Preston made a wry face. Jim could well understand the worry Preston had for his partner, and wondered what Ross was up to below decks, thankful that he was out of it. He had seen soldiers on ship before and knew that the first experience of a storm at sea might rattle any man, however brave he might be. His brief contemplation was interrupted by a cry from the main deck.

‘Look to the mizzen!’ Kent shouted and as a man they all looked up. One of the lines had come loose in the relentless wind and the mizzen topsail was threatening to unfurl. Jim and Preston shared a lightning quick look and without a moment’s thought ran for the mizzen mast, heading aloft as fast as they could in the rough conditions. A loose sail in these winds could easily cause the ship to list too far and be swamped or even capsized.

Jim was vaguely aware of two other hands besides Preston with him in the rigging but spared not a moment to confirm who they were. He focused his attention on climbing, the rain and wind making the rigging give and shift, complicating the task enormously. He swore under his breath as his hands slipped and he had barely righted himself before the ship gave a terrific lurch. He grabbed on as tightly as he could and climbed for all he was worth, knuckles turning white with the effort. He was well ahead of the others and reached the main spar just in time for the line to catch him in the face as it flapped wildly, and he felt a momentary warmth on his cheek before it was washed away by the rain. Preston finally caught up with him, followed by Digby and Rawlins, two of the most experienced hands on his watch. There were four others close behind them, six men in all not including himself and Preston.

He made his way along the foot line, slowly and surely, with Preston following and in spite of his well known dislike of climbing the rigging, largely due to not being particularly competent on it, Jim noted that he was doing well. Once in position, he gave Jim a shaky smile. The other hands were spread along the yard and together they got hold of the sail as best they could, slowly pulling it in. It was an arduous task, not helped by the swaying of the mast. It seemed to take forever but they finally managed to get it safely reefed and lashed. Jim waited until the other hands started to retreat to the deck before moving alongside Preston, who was looking more than a little the worse for wear.

‘Come along, Will.’ he shouted, his words being whipped away by the wind almost as soon as he spoke. He knew from experience that if he did not give any encouragement Preston was liable not to move on his own accord. ‘The difficult part is done, but we need to get down out of the rigging.’

That got Preston moving, and they made their way back to the main mast rigging to begin their descent. Jim went first, knowing that Preston would feel more comfortable with the security of having him below should anything go wrong.

They were about halfway down, when it happened. Preston lost his footing briefly, but it was enough to cause him to fall flat against the rigging, lose his grip and fall past Jim. Acting purely on instinct Jim threw out his arm, catching Preston about the waist. Unfortunately for them, Preston’s momentum swung them both around and that and the corresponding movement of the ship bought them crashing back against the mast, with Jim’s free arm that he was holding onto the rigging leaving his left side exposed. His body carried the impact of both himself and Preston and he inhaled sharply, feeling his ribs crack from the force as he hit the mast.

He closed his eyes, white hot spears shooting up his side and arm, but didn’t release his grip. Mercifully, Preston found his feet again and the weight lifted but Jim could not move. Every breath was agony and he clung to the rigging. Moments later, he felt a strong arm around him and opened his eyes to see Sellar next to him. His captain gestured for him to throw his arm across his shoulders and Jim complied. Thirty years at sea had made Sellar remarkably strong, a fact well known by his crew after they had jokingly challenged him to lift a yoke bearing two kegs of nails, a feat he had accomplished with barely any effort. He also had a tendency to climb the rigging for amusement and so was as sure footed as any man below.

Jim leaned his weight against him, and dropped the arm on his injured side and Sellar practically carried him down the last stretch, giving him over to Preston and Kent when they reached the bottom.

‘Thank you sir.’ he gasped but Sellar waved it away.

‘Get him below.’ he said to a white faced Preston, ‘Let Mr Staines have a look at him. That was a heavy blow he took.’

Preston took Jim’s arm over his shoulders, and half dragged, half carried him to the aft hatch, where Kent had lifted the canvas coverings and allowed them to pass below before battening it down again.

***********

Ross heard some commotion from near the aft gangway.

Mr Staines was already on his feet at the shout for attention from a voice Ross recognised as Preston’s. The four players stood as he came around the pantry and Ross saw a figure with water darkened blond hair leaning into Preston’s side, his arm looped over Preston’s shoulders. A most unsettled feeling flashed through him as he recognised the figure and before he knew what he was doing, he was up on his feet. He crossed over to Preston in a flash, taking Jim’s weight from him against his own body. Jim was shorter, but he was well-built and Ross had to brace himself to keep himself and Jim upright. Mr Staines had swept the mess table clear and beckoned Ross forward. They manoeuvred Jim onto the table in a sitting position, where he sat with his head down, his breathing clearly laboured.

‘What happened lad?’ Staines asked, taking Jim’s face in his hands and tilting his head back, looking him over and checking his eyes. Ross could see a thin cut running along Jim’s right cheekbone but it had largely stopped bleeding already.

‘He took a knock in the rigging.’ Preston answered for him. ‘I fear he has taken an injury to his side.’

Mr Staines adjusted his pince-nez.

‘Which side lad?’

‘The left.’ Jim replied, catching his breath in pain as Staines ran his hands over his ribs and pressed.

‘It might be a crack or a break. Coat and shirt off and I’ll have a look.’ he instructed.

Jim started to move, but Ross was quicker. He caught Jim’s hand and their eyes met. Jim’s normally clear blue eyes were cloudy with pain and that hit Ross like a blow to the stomach. Carefully and slowly he helped Jim off with his coat, while Preston untied and unwound his stock, leaving Jim in his loose linen undershirt. He tried to lift his left arm but gasped audibly at the stretch, so Ross took control, easing it off gently. Underneath his shirt, Jim’s left side was already starting to show up in livid patches of dark reddish-purple.

Staines ran his fingers over the ribs, depressing slightly as he went. Jim gritted his teeth, catching Ross’ hand in a grip strong enough to bruise his fingers but he remained silent during the examination. Ross held on to his hand, squeezing back. He couldn’t help noticing the finely drawn muscles of Jim’s arms and back, his eyes raking over the deeply tanned form to land with some surprise on the tattoo of a shark, entwined with an anchor on Jim’s right upper arm. Staines finished his examination of Jim’s ribs and turned his attention to the cut on Jim’s face, before stepping back and waving Mr Kennedy, his surgeon’s mate, over with a handful of bandages.

‘Not much for it,’ he said, as he strapped Jim tightly from chest to stomach. ‘There are at least two ribs broken by my reckoning. You’ll be in sick bay for a week until they begin to set, then light duties only for a further week. But you’re young so they should heal fast as long as you don’t exert yourself.’

‘You may was well ask the wind not to blow.’ Preston said trying to sound jovial but his eyes had a slightly wild look to them. Jim tried to laugh, but ended up coughing instead and squeezed Ross' hand so hard, Ross thought he heard something besides Jim’s ribs crack.

Staines had finished bandaging and was now applying a salve to the cut on Jim’s face.

‘All fit to go Mr Hawkins.’ he declared. ‘I’m sure Lieutenant Poldark will help you to sick bay and I can have a look at Mr Preston.’

‘I am well and have no need for your scrutiny.’ Preston protested as Ross helped Jim off the table, taking his weight again.

‘I’ll be the judge of that lad.’ Staines retorted, brooking no argument. ‘To the sick bay Lieutenant, I’ll be along shortly.’

Ross helped Jim through the men massed in the crew berth to the sick bay in the ship’s bow, accompanied by Mr Kennedy. Here there were a number of cots, much the same as those the officers had. It took some doing to get Jim into the nearest one and Ross winced in sympathy with him at every jolt. But through it all he was also uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating from the body against him, and the smooth feel of Jim’s bare skin beneath his fingers. He stood back and watched Mr Kennedy help Jim adjust his position until he was comfortable, or as close as it was possible to get. Once done, he left the sick bay, leaving them alone.

Jim rested his head back against the cot, eyes closed.

‘What happened?’ Ross asked.

‘Preston and I got into some difficulties reefing the mizzen topsail.’ Jim replied, eyes still closed as Mr Staines entered the sick bay, a small brown glass bottle in one hand. Jim opened his eyes and gave Staines a quizzical look.

‘Laudanum’ Staines explained. ‘It will take the edge off the pain. Five drops should do the trick and help you sleep.’ He administered the medicine, nodding in approval as Jim took the drops on his tongue without complaint. ‘Good. I will ask Mr Kennedy to remain here for a while, should you need more.’

‘Actually there’s no need Mr Staines.’ Ross was surprised at his own boldness. ‘I am not needed for duties, and will be more than happy to watch over Mr Hawkins.’

Staines considered this then nodded.

‘Very good. Come and get me from the stern if you need my assistance.’ he advised and with that he left and they were alone once more. Jim raised his good hand, rubbing his eyes as he felt the laudanum already starting to take an effect.

‘You don’t need to stay Ross.’ he sounded drowsy.

‘I know,’ Ross pulled forward one the heavy sea chests next to Jim’s cot. ‘But quite frankly I was losing terribly at whist when you arrived so I owe you a debt for that alone.’

That made Jim smile, his face already taking on a vague expression due to the opium.

‘My thanks then.’ he murmured before he closed his eyes again and let himself drift off.

Ross watched him for several minutes as Jim’s breathing evened out. Unable to help himself, he reached over and gently pushed a damp strand of hair from Jim’s face, thinking him asleep. Jim started at the touch, his hand coming up by instinct to catch Ross’ wrist, eyes suddenly wide open. They looked at each other and Ross could feel his face getting hot. Jim was equally embarrassed if his face was anything to go by. Neither seemed to be able to look away, until suddenly Jim released Ross’ wrist and reached out.

Frozen in place, Ross felt as if he had jumped from a cliff and was in that moment of glorious free fall before he hit the water. Jim’s hand connected with the side of his face and he unconsciously leaned into the touch, feeling the soft movement of Jim’s thumb as it ran along the line of his jaw and catching his breath as it moved to trace his bottom lip. He had just started to draw breath to speak when they heard the canvas sheet that separated sick bay from the rest of the deck move and Jim broke away as quick as lightning.

Preston came in, holding a mug that steamed in a fine balancing act to prevent the contents from being spilled. He took in the sight of Jim and Ross and a smile flashed across his face, before it settled back into its usual sardonic expression. He came over to the cot and handed Jim the mug.

‘Tea with honey.’ he explained. ‘Mr Staines deems it more warming than coffee and brandy I’m afraid.’

‘A good thing too,’ Jim adjusted himself before taking the mug and sipping as best he could while balancing it. ‘If I had brandy now I may not wake up again. The laudanum is powerfully strong.’ His eyes flickered to Ross as he said this and Ross wondered if that was being offered as an explanation and for whose benefit that explanation was.

Preston drew up another sea chest on the other side of the cot and sat down. He was still wet through.

‘I wanted to come and say thank you in person, Jim.’ His tone was uncharacteristically earnest.

‘There’s nothing to thank me for, Will.’ Jim smiled. ‘I would do it again in a pinch.’

‘Do what?’ Ross asked, now horribly confused.

‘Jim saved my skin, that’s what.’ Preston told him. ‘I am a poor man aloft and lost my grip. If it hadn’t been for Jim’s quick actions I would have fallen and been injured beyond repair.’

‘That’s how you were injured?’ Ross looked at Jim, who sipped his tea and said nothing.

‘He’s far too modest to take any credit for his actions, but yes. Unfortunately my unsightly bulk is responsible for Jim’s current state.’ Preston was downcast and Jim snorted most inelegantly.

‘Do not mention it.’ he said, fixing Preston with a look Ross could not read. He did have the distinct feeling, however, that this was as much an instruction as a statement.

‘Consider it not mentioned.’ Preston replied, his more familiar smile now in place. ‘I’ll let you get some rest, now that I see you are in excellent hands.’

He rose and took his leave. Jim finished the tea and handed the mug to Ross, avoiding his gaze. He lay back and closed his eyes and this time he did fall asleep, leaving Ross to wonder at what had just happened. 


	4. An Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is that love on the horizon? *squints*

Late April 1776

The day after the storm was a busy one. The waves and wind had died down sometime shortly before dawn and the deck had been pummelled by the relentless force so there was plenty to be done to set the ship to rights. The stench of vomit coming from the lower deck where the soldiers had ridden out the storm was overpowering and Ross had been tasked by Howard to supervise the cleaning up, which he did with a grimace. Jim had been sorry to see him go, but not half as sorry as Ross had been when he contemplated the unpleasant task before him. 

For his part, Jim was itching to be up on deck to take stock of the damage but his bruises had turned from the reddish-purple of the day before to a rich magenta and indigo, which had Staines tutting loudly and meant that the threat of bed rest for a week was going to be strictly enforced under pain of being thrown overboard should he disobey and Jim knew better than to test the surgeon, who had all manner of unpleasant concoctions at the ready to administer by way of punishment. 

Kennedy had bought him breakfast and more tea before he was allowed to get up and walk very gingerly to the heads and then herded right back to his cot again. He had at least been given his copy of Herodotus and was sitting reading when he heard a soft clearing of the throat. He looked up to one of Halford’s shy smiles. As brash and extrovert as Preston was, the man who held his heart was quiet and thoughtful, an excellent Executive officer and a loyal friend. Jim took in the neatly brushed sandy hair and the eyes as green as bottle glass and smiled in return.

‘Good morning Jim.’ Halford said, coming to sit beside him. ‘I trust you are no worse than yesterday.’

‘No worse, and even a little better. Certainly more colourful.’ He lifted his arm for Halford to inspect his bruises, which had developed nicely and now ran above the line of the bandages.

‘I hear from Will that you have also acquired a watch dog.’ The shy smile turned wicked, changing Halford’s face from merely pleasant to devilishly attractive in the blink of an eye. Jim and Preston had vied for that smile when they were younger but Jim had lost out, completely outgunned by Preston’s sharp tongue and wit and sheer dogged persistence in courting the reserved First Lieutenant. In truth Preston was the only one who managed to get Halford to laugh out loud, a surprisingly deep throated laugh that Jim knew was now the driving motivation for practically every witty thing Preston said.

‘Will needs to learn not to indulge in idle gossip, Jack.’ He grinned in reply, knowing he was not going to get anything past Halford.

‘I’ll be sure to pass on the message. After all, we both know how suggestible he is.’ Halford said this with a perfectly straight face and Jim laughed at the little bite of sarcasm. Preston was as suggestible as a very large rock and just as immovable once he had got an idea in his head.

'fat lot of good it shall do.' he replied.

‘In all seriousness though.’ Halford said, his voice dropping so only Jim could hear it. ‘I cannot thank you enough for what you did for him.’

‘It was nothing. I did it gladly. He is my friend, as are you and I know how much he means to you.’ Jim replied in the same manner and Halford nodded in acknowledgement his eyes going distant. 

One did not speak of love in these surroundings but that did not mean it did not exist. Jim could see it in every look Preston and Halford had exchanged in the last two years, even if they had to cover it up as nothing more than a deep and abiding friendship. The service was accommodating but only so far. Many men were of a like mind as they were, using the service to satisfy their true natures while they kept a wife and children back in port. 

But not these two. Jim would bet that these two would remain confirmed bachelors throughout their lives, delighting in the fulfilment only the other could give. He said nothing, just reached out and touched Halford’s hand lightly. Halford looked up and returned the touch, a soft squeeze of Jim’s hand, then he got up and left.

**************

The weather after the storm gave absolutely no hint as to what had happened a mere twenty four hours before. By afternoon it was scorching, with clear blue skies. The sailors divested themselves of their shirts and Ross envied them the ability to simply dress as they pleased. His own uniform had become very uncomfortable and he complained to Jim, striding about sickbay like a man possessed, which only made him hotter and more discontent. 

Jim regarded him over his Herodotus. The touch the day before had not been mentioned by either of them and yet it had managed to dispel some of the tension that had been brewing. Ross had still studiously avoided looking at him directly when he came in to see him,= but Jim felt like a corner had been turned. This was reinforced by the fact that, while Ross had always been a little taciturn before, today he was in fine voice and Jim let him rant about the general stupidity of His Majesty’s Army and the uniforms the soldiers were required to wear.

‘Honestly.' He came to sit down next to Jim, his face sullen. ‘I cannot see the use of the damn thing.’

‘It’s a question of morale Ross.’ Jim replied evenly. ‘It does the enlisted men good to see a well turned out officer and reinforces discipline.’

‘It won’t do a bit of good if we all die of heat exhaustion before we get there.’ Ross grumbled, running a hand through his already sweaty hair. He threw Jim a quick glance. ‘How are you feeling today?’

‘Not so bad that I wouldn’t gladly trade a stuffy uniform for the chance to be outside in the air.’ Jim said. ‘You should be up on deck rather than sweltering down here with me.’ He gave Ross a smile and was pleased to see a rather shy one in return.

‘I am happy to keep you company.’ It felt like a confession, but at least he looked at Jim directly. There was a distinct frisson that passed between the two of them before he dropped his gaze and they sat in silence for a moment before Jim handed the Herodotus to him.

‘Read.’ he instructed. Ross stared at the book that had been thrust into his hands.and then back up at Jim, his face questioning. ‘The laudanum and the heat have given me an awful headache.’ 

It was not strictly true, but Jim couldn’t very well come out and say that the reason was that he wished to keep Ross beside him for as long as possible.

‘I don’t know how to read Greek.’ Ross protested, looking mildy horrified at having been out on the spot.

‘You don’t have to understand it, just read it.’ Jim assured him, settling himself down. 

Ross eyed him, and Jim knew he was probably noting the darkened bruises at the top end of his ribcage and studying the thin cut on his face, which had sealed nicely though even if it still stood out lividly against his tanned skin. All in all he didn’t look too bad and Ross eventually sighed and opened the book.

‘You’re know you're going to have a fine scar.’ he remarked and Jim smiled. ‘If nothing else it should enhance your reputation as a pirate.’

‘Hunting for treasure does not automatically make one a pirate. Now, stop procrastinating and read.’ he retorted.

‘All right, but I will not be responsible for my pronunciation.’ Ross warned him and started reading. He was right in one respect. His pronunciation was truly awful and Jim spent most of that first afternoon correcting him, until he threw the book aside in frustration and Jim had to gently coax him back into a state that was fit to continue. 

**********

After that Jim took care to be a little more reserved in his criticism. Preston had offered Jim his copy of Moll Flanders, suggesting the subject might hasten things along, and had fled laughing when the offending book had sailed past his shoulder just missing him. Even injured Jim had fine aim and he’d been lucky to escape. In retaliation, Preston had sent Riley and Blythe to read it to him instead with strict instructions to only do so when Lieutenant Poldark was in situ as they both appreciated fine literature. a fact reported verbatim by Riley with a gleeful grin.

Thankfully it was not academics as the Herodotus was tempered with conversation, which proved to be a God send in that first week Jim had nearly been driven to distraction with boredom.

‘So he was a pirate.’ Ross said, peeling the lemon he held and passing a section to Jim.

‘Yes, but Silver was also an able, intelligent and likeable man. That’s what made him dangerous. I was as taken in as anyone, probably even more so because I was young and I had just lost my father.’ Jim chewed the lemon, then spat the pips into his hand before discarding them. ‘A man is never truly good or truly evil. I often wonder what he would have become if circumstances had been different. Or what I would have become if my own decisions had been altered. When I returned I was only a child, and I swore I would never go to sea again, and yet not two months later I was knocking on Trelawney’s door asking for his favour. Something happened to me on that island, and while I was happy to see my mother again, and my share made our lives very comfortable, my experience awoke something that meant I would never be happy to live on dry land again.’

‘I cannot agree with you there.’ Ross said, making a face as he ate his own lemon segment. 'The sooner I am out of this and back home, the better.’

‘Then why join up in the first place? You have no brothers, so it’s not as if you had no other option.’ Jim took another segment from him. 

Ross kept his head down, not acknowledging the statement and so Jim pressed him. 

‘Ross?’ he frowned. 'Did I say something wrong?'

Ross inhaled and then seemed to hesitate.

‘Do you remember my first night on ship when I said I did not wish for you to judge me.’ he finally said, somewhat cautiously and keeping his head down. ‘I still do not wish for that to happen.’

‘What on earth would I judge you for?’ Jim said, ‘You are currently keeping me company because I did not have the good sense to not fall out of the rigging. If anything I would expect you to be judging me.’ He looked up to see a stricken look on Ross’ face. ‘However, should you not wish to speak of it, we can let it go and talk of other things.’

‘Perhaps, it would be better if we did.’ Ross agreed and they sat in awkward silence for a few moments. Eventually Ross made a gesture towards the tattoo on Jim’s arm. 

‘I should like to hear the story of that.’ Now he sounded almost shy. Jim looked down at it and shrugged.

‘It’s a sailor’s tradition.’ he explained.

‘I have seen them on the sailors yes, but you are an officer.’ Ross persisted. 

‘Still a sailor.’ Jim pointed out. ‘I got it in the West Indies on our last voyage after the hurricane in ’73. We were lucky to survive.’ 

Ross frowned.

‘I do not understand.’ he admitted.

‘The shark is for protection.’ Jim explianed. ‘I have no fear of drowning, as strange as that may seem, but the shark puts the fear of God in me.’

‘And the anchor?’ Ross asked.

‘It means I have sailed the Atlantic. I have another of a turtle for sailing across the Equator but it’s not suitably placed for polite company.’ Jim replied with a smile. ‘Mine are not anywhere near as impressive as the Captain’s though. He has an entire fully rigged ship on his back. And that of course is nothing compared to what Mr Staines has on his buttocks.’ 

The look on Ross' face was enough to make him burst out laughing.

*********

The rest of the week went by rather slower than Jim would have liked, although having someone who was at liberty to spend time keeping him entertained went a long way to alleviate the boredom. By the end of it Jim was fairly champing at the bit to be back on duty, sneaking out from sick bay whenever he could before being chased back into it by Staines.

His first day back on watch was wonderful. His ribs still ached terribly and Staines said that it would be another two weeks before they were properly healed but he could at least now move about with gasping in pain. He was standing out now on the quarterdeck, stretching after the long confine in the sick bay cot. Sellar had allowed him to dispense with his heavy coat and Jim stood only in his shirt and waistcoat. Captain Sellar had advised him to delegate the more physical tasks to the midshipmen which he did gladly. They were past the midway point on their journey, and the tedium had well and truly set in on board. He looked over to where Ross stood against the board idly chewing on a fingernail, a habit he had when bored Jim had noticed.

‘Riley.’ Jim called and the midshipman scampered over. It was a widely held belief he didn’t have the ability to move except in a fashion most unbefitting a future naval officer.

‘Sir?’ he asked, all eagerness and Jim smiled.

‘I think Lieutenant Poldark is feeling a little out of sorts.’ Jim projected his voice and Ross looked up at the mention of his name, dropping his hand with a guilty look on his face and Jim surmised that the action was one for which he was reprimanded at home. ‘What do you suggest?’ 

Riley screwed up his face in thought.

‘We could teach him the names of the seas and oceans.’ he ventured. ‘Or rope work.’

‘I think rope work is an excellent suggestion. Go round up some line and get Mr Blythe and Mr Lee down from the forecastle. It will be excellent practice for you as well.' Jim instructed.

Shortly afterwards, Ross found himself on the lee side of the quarterdeck, surrounded by three boys and with a length of line in his hand. They took turns in demonstrating the basic knots of seamanship, starting with a bowline. He listened as they recited a rhyme while they tied the knot, but failed to make it himself the first few times.

‘This is hopeless.’ he muttered to Jim, who came over to inspect his handiwork and raised an eyebrow. He took the line from Ross, twisted it effortlessly into the knot and handed it back.

‘Can’t be the line. It must be you.’ he declared and moved off, grinning.

Ross gave him a withering look, and tried again. The boys were quick to correct him, making him tie the knot again and again. Then on what seemed like the hundredth try the knot took and he felt a surge of triumph, smiling broadly at Jim and brandishing the knot .

‘Look, I did it!’ he declared. Jim and Craddock, who was at the wheel, turned and inspected it then exchanged a glance.

‘He’s as bad as a midshipman.’ Craddock remarked.

‘Aye,’ Jim agreed, but the look he gave Ross was fond, ‘Just larger.’ 

Ross muttered under his breath and showed it to Riley who nodded his approval.

‘Now for something more difficult.’ he said. Ross gave him a withering look.

‘More difficult?’ There was a distinct edge to his voice.

‘Aye sir. That was the easiest one.’ Riley sounded smug and Ross heaved a sigh. He could have sworn that he also heard Jim chuckle under his breath.

By then end of the watch Ross had mastered the bowline, stopper, clove hitch and sheet bend, although the two half hitches was still eluding him. He got several amused looks at dinner when he bought his piece of line to the mess table and these turned to looks of downright hilarity when he headed off to the midshipmen’s berth to continue with his lesson afterwards. 

Knot work soon turned into learning the names of masts and sails. That turned into chart work and navigation. Ross swore that he learned more in that week than he had in his entire time at school. And as long as he fulfilled his duties, Captain Howard was amenable to the way he spent his time. By the Saturday he was teaching in turn, talking to the boys about what he knew of meteorology and being drafted in to help with sword play, as Jim was not fit for this particular duty in helping both watches with drills. The midshipmen had precious little in the way of formal education on land, having almost all of it aboard, and happily absorbed all information imparted to them. Mr Staines did for them in the way of natural history, and the other officers taught them mathematics. Mr Fletcher gave lessons in navigation, Mr Kent in sail setting and rigging.

Their lesson for that evening was calculating the reflections of plane surfaces. Riley, Blythe and Lee had gathered after dinner around their mess table with their work. Ross had been interested to discover that all officers had to provide themselves with the requisite charts and books. Jim was sitting with them, his current status of invalid meaning that he had been lumbered with a greater share of teaching duties than normal. 

Ross listened in interest to the complexities of algebra and trigonometry, although it meant little to him. He was reading a book Mr Staines had lent him on the native flora of Cornwall but had set it aside to contemplate Jim, something that he had taken to doing since that night in sick bay. The midshipmen’s berth was lit by three lamps, hanging suspended from the upper deck. The boys were seated at their mess table, parchment spread before them and making calculations with sticks of graphite. Jim’s hair looked burnished in the lamplight, a strand of it escaping and hanging in his face as he read over Lee’s shoulder. 

Ross remembered brushing it back and felt heat flare through his chest as the memory of Jim’s hand on his face.

***********

It was the next day when the midshipmen presented Ross with a new challenge. The day was cooler and a fair wind was blowing and he was running rifle drills with the soldiers on the lee side of the ship, feeling increasingly frustrated. 

The now routine matter of watches and drills was irking him for some reason and he looked to where Riley, Blythe and Lee were up and down the rigging at Jim’s instruction. They had just been up the main mast where Jim had them checking the sails, before racing down the rigging like monkeys. They nodded their respects to Ross before running off to report to Jim, and he watched them go, an idea playing in the back of his head. 

Later that evening during their usual free time between watches Ross remarked on their skill in the rigging to Jim, who looked up from his journal and frowned in the dim light.

‘They are remarkably agile.’ Ross explained and Jim nodded.

‘Learning the rigging is just as important as anything else on ship. It will allow them to measure the risks before sending crew aloft if they experience them first hand. Good officers would never take unnecessary risks with their crew. Experienced crew are a valuable commodity, and they would soon move on if they had no confidence in a captain or officer. That’s the road to mutiny and I’ve seen enough of that in my life.’ he replied and went back to writing, his pen scratching over the paper. 

‘I think all that Greek is rubbing off on you and making you positively philosophical.’ Preston said in passing and he got a glare for his trouble.

‘Do you remember asking me if I should like to try climbing?’ Ross asked, waiting until Preston had moved on, and Jim nodded.

‘I do. I also remember that you were quite adamant that you were happy to keep your feet on the ground.’ He gave Ross a look from under his blond brows.

‘Well, my thought is that it cannot be as difficult as it seems if three small boys can do it.’ Ross replied and received a snort of laughter in response.

‘If you believe that then you have less sense than I thought you did.’ Jim laughed and went back to what he was doing. He continued in silence for a while, before Ross changed his tack.

‘It would be good for me to get some decent exercise. I would think that climbing the rigging is fairly physically demanding.’ he suggested.

‘It is, which is precisely why it should only be undertaken with supervision.’ Jim looked up from his journal. 'It is not something that can be learned in one try.'

‘Well, then you could supervise me.’ Ross told him. Now Jim put his down down and stared at him.

‘Are you saying that you should like to try it after all?’ he asked.

‘If it will offer me change of routine, I think I might even be tempted to try needlework.’ Ross retorted, not wanting to sound too eager.

‘Needlework is not to be mocked, Lieutenant. Not all of us have a valet to sew our buttons on for us.’ Jim grinned at him.

The conversation tailed off after that and Ross did not bring the subject up again, as Jim had clearly decided that it was not going to happen.

*********

It came with some surprise the next day that Ross found himself being hauled to the base of the mizzen mast with strict instructions to be careful and come down if he felt in the slightest bit off. His coat and hat were taken before he could protest and Riley and Blythe were on either side of him to make sure that no accidents happened.

‘No pressing forward until you are entirely comfortable. You will not be going all the way to the top yard today, that will only happen once I am satisfied that you are able to handle yourself.  
Hopefully I will be healed enough by then to take you up there myself. And remember Ross, one hand for yourself and one for the ship.’ Jim directed, his voice stern.

‘I know Jim, you have told me several times already.’ Ross felt unexpectedly excited.

‘And don’t forget to keep your feet together, do not step over yourself.’ Jim added and now Ross had to resist the urge to roll his eyes much in the manner of the midshipmen around him.

‘At this rate it will be the end of watch before I am aloft.’ he grumbled. Jim said nothing, but the look he gave Ross spoke volumes.

It was slow going at first. Ross had really not anticipated how much strain it put on the arms and shoulders. He felt as slow and clumsy as he had done his first day on ship, but heeded Jim’s advice and went slowly. It was an unfamiliar thrill to reach the first yard, and he paused there, with the lads alongside giving him encouragement.

‘You’re doing very well, sir.’ Blythe grinned. ‘The first time Riley went aloft, he got violently ill and chucked up. It went all over the deck and he had to spend the next hour cleaning it up.’

‘That may be, but I still reached the top yard before you did.’ Riley shot back. ‘How are you finding the movement sir?’

‘Not too bad, truth be told. I was expecting it to be worse.’ Ross replied.

‘Oh, it does get worse. Once you get to the top, the whole mast moves in a figure of eight. And that’s in a fair wind. It can get quite thrilling. It’s like standing on deck. You have to move with the rigging.’ Blythe explained. 

They remained at the first yard for about twenty minutes, Riley and Bythe showing Ross how to move along ratline. It was completely different to being down on deck. The movement of the ship was different at this height, the pitching taking on a graceful rolling motion. The breeze move faster up here as well and Ross turned his face into the wind, the tang of salt filling his nose.

‘It’s nice up here.’ Riley said, hanging on beside him.

‘Yes it is.’ Ross agreed.

**********

After that Ross made a point of climbing every day. He remained close to the ground at first, but his confidence grew with each attempt and the next week saw him moving up from the lowest yard to the middle one.

Jim watched him from the deck, noting with approval that Ross had a good natural sense of balance and seemed to be taking to the rigging well. He would have made a fine top man if he had been a sailor and not a soldier. By the third week after the storm, Jim was healed sufficiently to join him at the lowest yard, although more exertion than that found him tiring quickly. He showed Ross how the lines were tied off and the sails gathered in and they spent some time each watch sitting in the rigging as it was a fairly quiet place and bought them a small respite from having others constantly around them. They did not speak much while aloft, content to simply be in each other’s company.   
While neither would admit to this being the motivation for this particular activity, it did not escape Preston’s notice and he waited till the next Forenoon Watch to corner Jim on the quarterdeck. Captain Howard had taken to drilling the soldiers twice daily as they came closer to Halifax, and Ross was occupied on the other side of the ship.

Jim was standing at the rear of the quarterdeck almost at the stern when he saw Preston approaching with a determined look on his face. He sighed, knowing from long experience that he was in for a lecture of some significance.

‘I have had enough.’ Preston announced when he reached his side. When Jim did not respond he gave him a pointed look.

‘All right, I’ll bite.’ Jim glanced at him. ‘What exactly have you had enough of, Will?’

‘You and the Lieutenant dancing around each other like a pair of love struck maids, that’s what. It’s clear he has no idea what to do with you, and so I have decided that it shall have to be you to make your intentions known.’ Preston declared.

‘And what if I have no intentions?’ Jim snapped, refusing to be outmanouvered on this count.

‘You’re fooling no one with that protestation James Hawkins. And if you do nothing I shall be forced into taking action myself.’ Preston warned him, a sharp smile on his face.

‘Is this a declaration of hostilities?’ Jim shot back, hoping to ward him off.

‘Oh, yes. Hostilities of the worst kind. We have exactly a week left of this voyage before we reach Halifax, and then he could quite simply vanish from your life and be sent to God knows where. He could, Heaven forbid never come back. It would be a great pity to let him go without even finding out if your feelings are requited.’ Preston now looked like a man who'd just played his best card.

‘That may be, or it may save me a great deal of heart ache.’ Jim countered, but Preston was having none of it.

‘To quote the immortal Bard, faint heart ne’er won fair lady.’ he said airily.

‘I’m not sure Ross would approve of you referring to him as a fair lady.’ Jim replied and the proceeded to ignore him.

*********

Over the next few days, Jim did not make any sort of move. 

He was wary of doing anything that would mark such an irreparable change to their now established friendship. Nothing further had happened since he had crossed that first barrier in the sick bay and while Ross had not rebuffed him, he had also not made any advances of his own. They were physically comfortable with each other that was true, as usually happened with someone that you lived check by jowl with, but Jim held back and the days passed.

‘Perhaps today?’ Ross asked looking to him while he was contemplating the horizon. Jim knew he was eager to climb to the top of the mizzen mast as promised before they reached Halifax and Captain Sellar had reported at dinner the previous night that they were but a day out of port.

‘Perhaps.’ Jim replied carefully in a tone that was neither here nor there. Ross glared at him and he could not help laughing. ‘You look like a recalcitrant child when you do that, Ross. Anyone would think that it is I who is the elder and not you.’

‘I wouldn’t if you kept your promises.’ Ross grumbled. 

Now it was Jim’s turn to glare, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously. He was hesitant but he also knew he had fairly run out of time and Preston, in spite of his threats, had done nothing except give him meaningful looks. 

If he was going to take a chance, now would be the time. 

Jim sighed.

‘I’m going aloft Mr Craddock.’ he said and Ross’ expression turned hopeful.

‘Aye sir.’ Craddock replied, not even turning around.

Jim removed his hat and coat, handing them off to Blythe who had the hourglass.

‘Come along then, if we are going to do this, we’d best be quick about it.' he ordered and Ross was out of his coat quicker than was decent for a grown man. 

They started up the mizzen mast, with Jim taking the lead. 

***********

The climb was easier now that Ross had learned to adjust himself to the motion of the ship and not remain stiff. The rigging did not chafe his hands as it had and the burn that set into his shoulders and upper arms was pleasant. Jim moved ahead of him, not too fast and looking back every now and then to check that Ross was still with him so he put his head down and focused on the movements of his hands and feet. They moved up past the lower yard, then the middle one. This was as far as Ross had previously climbed, and his excitement built as they pressed on.

Jim was waiting for him when he finally reached the top. He was braced comfortably against the top of the mast, one arm wrapped in the rigging and he extended the other to Ross, helping him up till they were standing side by side. It was dizzying and Ross held on tightly. The mast swayed and he made the mistake of glancing back the way they had come, gasping a little at the height and moving unconsciously closer to Jim.

‘Don’t look down.’ Jim corrected, moving so that he was perpendicular to Ross, ‘Look out.’ 

Ross did, and his mouth fell open at the sight. The whole of the ocean stretched out before him, a perfect sheet of glassy blue dappled silver and gold by the sunlight and so far removed from the deck and the people down below. His look of surprise gave way to a brilliant smile.

‘You are right Jim,’ he said ‘It is truly a beautiful sight.’ His eyes were fixed on the horizon, completely missing the way Jim was looking at him.

‘Not compared to the one I’m looking at.’ Jim remarked and Ross turned to him, only for Jim to reach out and take Ross’ face in one hand before leaning over the small distance between them and kissing him. 

It was unlike anything Ross had experienced before, more heated than the kisses he had shared with Elizabeth, and it made his heart pound. Jim’s mouth was firm and sure and he found himself responding. 

When it ended, Jim moved back from him, blue eyes a little wary. Ross looked back, eyes as wide as a startled deer, the heat he had felt before now positively searing through him. The corner of Jim’s mouth quirked up and he started to pull further away, but Ross was acting purely on his instinct as he leaned forward and kissed him in turn. This was a little more awkward, as Ross had leaned in a little too far and moved a little too fast and Jim moved his hand to the back of Ross’ head to steady them. This forced Ross to tilt his own, which had the effect of making the kiss rather deeper than he had anticipated. He broke away and Jim smiled at him, leaning his forehead against Ross’ to prolong the contact.

‘I think we should get you down to deck Lieutenant.’ he murmured. ‘I wouldn’t want you get so light headed that you fall out of the rigging.’

‘I think that’s rather your speciality than mine,’ Ross tried to keep his voice steady, even though he could feel himself shaking. 

Jim gave him a searching look before he released him and took the lead down to the deck. Ross followed, thankful that by the time they reached the deck below he would have an excuse for his shortness of breath and pounding heart.


	5. Halifax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragon arrives in Canada.

Halifax, Mid May 1776

The coastline leading to Halifax came into view, a level land of green with beaches of shingle and rocky coves. Spruce and pine grew right down to the shore. The air was heavy with barely evaporated mist and from the ship it seemed that the sun filtered through it and bathed the land in an ethereal light.

Captain Sellar stood alongside Jim and Halford at the bow board, spyglass to one eye. He had called both watches to anchor stations and the ship was pristine and dressed. All the officers were turned out in immaculate uniform, brass buttons polished to a mirror shine and hats and coats brushed. The midshipmen also looked neat and tidy, having had the attentions of Jim and Preston to make sure they had their hair brushed and had washed behind their ears. Ross also noted that Jim had changed into his clean coat and, with his clean white stock against his tanned skin, it set off his eyes and made them look impossibly blue.

The soldiers had been mustered and stood to attention on the deck. Ross had spent his morning in much the same way as Jim, checking that his men were appropriately turned out and made sure that his own uniform was clean, his boots polished and his normally unruly hair brushed and tied back neatly. He stood alongside Howard as they came into the natural harbour that made Halifax a good place to weigh anchor listening to Captain Sellar gave Halford the order to heave to. Mr Craddock turned the ship into the wind on Halford's order, effectively bringing her to a halt. Sellar then gave the order to weigh anchor and the men gathered about the capstan set to, pushing mightily to lower the anchor and heavy chain.

Captain Sellar, Captain Howard, Ross, Preston and Jim were to go ashore, leaving the ship in Halford’s care. As the junior officer, Jim was first into the cutter that would take them from the ship and the others followed. The small craft was rowed across the short distance to the dock and Jim noted the large island battery that lay just off the town. Halifax itself was a collection of streets built in the English style that would not have looked out of place in Portsmouth. The majority of the buildings were timber and clapboard, and there were two churches, their steeples short by English standards. Between them was a fine white building, which was no doubt the Governor’s house. At the dock they disembarked from the cutter, and Sellar, Preston and Jim headed off in the direction of the harbour buildings. Howard and Ross set off to where the troops were mustering.

Howard and Ross headed out to the fields on the bluff behind Halifax where the vast bulk of the newly arrived troops were stationed under the command of General Carleton. They would wait until fully massed and then set off for the city of Quebec which was still having persistent problems with American Forces. The walk took them through the town, and they saw a great many other regimental troops and sailors milling in the streets. Halifax was a small town and it appeared to have been fairly swamped by its new arrivals.

Up behind the town, the bluff was a hive of activity, where lines of light coloured canvas tents were laid out one after the other. It was six men to a tent for enlisted soldiers, fewer for officers. There was little in the way of provisions for comfort, but Ross revelled in the open green spaces and fresh air after his long confinement aboard ship. He breathed deeply, smelling evergreen trees and wood smoke from the camp fires. Howard led him along the line to a larger tent with two guards posted outside. He was met by an _aide de camp_ and introduced himself and Ross. The aide de camp vanished inside the tent then leaned back into the opening and beckoned them inside, where they found two men besides the _aide de camp_. The one reading documents at a campaign desk Ross recognised as their own regimental commander, Lieutenant Colonel John Anstruther. He was a tall, rangy man with high colouring who wore his hair curled and powdered. Howard and Ross drew themselves up and saluted as they came to stand in front of him.

‘Captain Howard and Lieutenant Ross reporting, sir.’ Howard said, and Anstruther nodded in acknowledgement.

‘I am glad to see you have arrived intact,’ he said. ‘I had heard from several others that arrived the day before yesterday of bad weather on the crossing.’

‘It was at one point, but our ship’s captain is a man of great competence and brought us safely through it.’ Howard assured him.

‘Good.’ Anstruther replied. ‘You will bring your men ashore at dawn tomorrow. That will give sufficient time to prepare accommodations. How many are you?’

‘Sixty including myself and the Lieutenant.’ Howard replied. Anstruther did not answer him as he had turned his attention back to his documents, waving a hand to direct him to the _aide de camp_ , who ushered them out of the tent. Once outside Ross bridled.

‘He could have at least acknowledged us.’ he muttered.

‘It’s the way of the army, Ross.’ Howard said, seemingly unoffended at their brusque dismissal. ‘Come, let’s go and have a look around.’

*********

Down in the town, Jim, Sellar and Preston were sitting with Lord Bellingham, the Post Captain who had overall authority of the gathered fleet. He was a genial man, swarthy and well-rounded in the mid-section, a condition which was unfortunately emphasised by the scarlet sash worn across his body and signifying his order but he was relaxed and invited them to join him for a glass of claret in his makeshift office in one of the customs buildings at the edge of the harbour.

‘The thing is Sellar,’ he boomed, waving a hand in an expansive gesture. ‘These waters are currently crawling with American privateers. It’s been getting damned hairy out there. The inland waters need to be taken back as soon as possible or the movement of supplies is going to become nigh impossible.’

Sellar nodded thoughtfully, sipping his wine.

‘We can be of assistance on that front.’ he suggested. ‘The Dragon has had significant experience in dealing with privateers in the West Indies.’

‘So I believe. And while I appreciate that it would do your men good to maybe take a little time before you put to sea again, I cannot spare you for more than a day. That should give them time to kick up their heels a bit, although there is precious little in the way of diversion here, especially for young men.’ He said this to Preston and Jim with a conspiratorial look.

Jim had to suppress a smile. Diversion was not an issue for Preston and Halford, who would no doubt be merrily diverting themselves with each other by their first evening of shore leave. As for himself, well there was a certain army officer, who had been throwing him glances of a most interesting nature in the past week and generally behaving like a skittish horse since their encounter in the rigging, that he dearly wanted to corner. He returned look the Captain gave them with a nod and Bellingham smiled, a big cheery thing.

‘That will not be an issue.’ Sellar said, his tone business like. ‘Now, tell me about these American ships.’

‘Fast and they turn on a penny.’ Bellingham grumbled. ‘There are two in particular that we have had a devil of a time with.’

‘Well, the Dragon may not be a ship of the line, but you’ll be hard pressed to find her equal for speed or manoeuvrability.’ Sellar replied. Bellingham nodded, looking thoughtful.

‘That is exactly what we require. Now, shall we discuss the matter of provisioning?’ he rustled some papers and Jim settled in for a long conversation. Food was a topic akin to God for Navy men.

It was late afternoon when he and the others returned to the ship and Jim was surprised to find the soldiers still on board. He and Preston hunted down Halford, who explained that they would be there for one more night.

‘They will disembark at first light, apparently their accommodations have not been prepared.’ he explained, exchanging a look with Preston which immediately made Jim suspicious.

‘I that case, I think that this would be an excellent time to suggest that the Captain hold a little soiree in order to bid farewell to our guests, seeing as we will have only one more day of their company.’ Preston was grinning a particularly wicked manner and Jim glared at both of them.

‘No.’ He was stern, knowing exactly what was about to be suggested. Captain Sellar enjoyed a drink as much as the next man, so long as the next man was a cask of rum. He had a reputation for sobriety, but when he decided to celebrate he did so by getting drunk even by naval standards. Jim did not count himself as a lightweight but he had made the mistake of trying to keep up with the captain at Christmas and had suffered the ill effects for three days after. He hadn’t even been able to look at a wine glass without feeling nauseous.

‘I think it would be a fitting end to the voyage.’ Halford agreed. ‘And you know how the Captain enjoys rewarding the crew. Keeps up morale. We’re going to need it if we are to go chasing privateers.’

‘And we have just come through a serious storm with no damage to the ship.’ Preston added, his silvery eyes twinkling.

‘Although there was plenty of damage to me.’ Jim pointed out, but he knew he was outnumbered. In the end they didn’t even have to try very hard. All it took was an allusion to Christmas and the storm that the Dragon had sailed through while leaving the Caribbean Sea and a comparison with how well the ship had handled their recent endeavour. Sellar thought it a capital idea and gave the order to splice the main brace. Upon hearing this, the entire crew girded their loins for a heavy night.

*********

Howard and Ross returned to the Dragon after what should have only been an afternoon’s work that had extended into the early evening. They had spoken with the camp quartermaster to ensure the tents for their troops would be available and then seen to their own accommodations, before being collared and dragged into a lengthy and tedious discussion with the other regimental officers on the distribution of tasks and provisions.

By the time they left, Ross was ready to bayonet someone. He had been on edge all day, and he knew exactly why. The climb to the top of the mast and the ensuing kiss had completely thrown him, not least because, while he could reconcile himself with the fact that Jim had kissed him, what he was having trouble with was the fact that he’d kissed him back and the overwhelming response his own body had had. He had spent the rest of the watch, and indeed the rest of the evening, avoiding Jim on the pretext of needing to put himself in order.

What he had really been doing was stealing surreptitious looks at Jim and frantically running away every time Jim had tried to speak to him. He had even waited for him to go to bed and fall asleep before he had done the same, not sure if he would have been able to restrain himself from doing something, although he’d had no idea what he would have actually done. Even so, he did not fall asleep for a very long time, lying awake in the dim light from the lamps in the gun room and listening to the steady breathing from the sleeping figure that was so close he could have reached out in a trice and tried that kiss again, the mere fact of which was completely confusing.

They took the cutter back to the ship, only to find the crew distinctly merrier than before. Not only that, but the soldiers seemed to be a little put out. When questioned, they explained the situation and that Captain Sellar had not given them their double rum rations as he had been waiting to defer to Howard with regards to his men. Howard happily gave the order and the extra rations were issued, which cheered the men considerably and there was much excitement as they made their way along deck, only to be cornered by a very bright eyed Riley.

‘Captain’s compliments sir.’ he said. ‘He has invited you to join him and the other officers in the great cabin to celebrate our safe arrival in Halifax and wish for luck in our future endeavours.’

Howard and Ross noted with some alarm that he was swaying ever so slightly.

‘Lead the way Mr Riley.’ Howard ordered and then leaned over to Ross as they followed him. ‘Is that child drunk?’

‘He certainly appears to be.’ Ross was bemused. However, when they got to the great cabin they discovered that Riley was not the only one. The officers and Captain Smith, Mr Kent, Mr Staines and Mr Isaacs were all very deep in the rum cask already. Captain Sellar, whose large bulk seemed to have developed a very relaxed attitude, invited them to sit at table and pressed them with a short glass of rum each.

‘We’re splicing the mainbrace.’ he roared happily. In response to their questioning looks, Mr Staines explained the tradition, whereupon they were encouraged to drink the short glass of rum. Ross threw a somewhat panicked look in Jim’s direction where he was sitting at the far side, glass of wine if front of him and a bright flush on his cheeks and eyes that sparkled too readily and betraying the fact that he had obviously been drinking for some time, as had the rest of them.

‘But what of the ship?’ Howard managed to splutter, after drinking. The look on his face when he'd drunk the shot had drawn a round of unrestrained laughter.

‘We are most fortunate that Mr Fletcher is an exponent of temperence.’ Staines was smiling. ‘We are always assured of leaving the Dragon in safe hands and he is rewarded by having the moral high ground until we are all recovered. It gives him great satisfaction.’

They all looked at Ross, who was regarding the drink in front of him with suspicion. He lifted it and caught the smell of what could have only been a very high level of alcohol. While he enjoyed beer and wine, the rum had not appealed to his tastes at all. But he was not one to give offence so he drank it in one gulp and then immediately wished he had not. It burnt all the way down and the others cheered while Smith pounded him on the back.

‘He can shoot a ribbon off a barrel at a hundred yards, but he can’t take his measure.’ he laughed. ‘Better have another!’

One short glass turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into dinner, claret, port and madeira.

Ross had never seen alcohol consumed on the scale that it was that night. He had certainly been drunk before but the amount he had already consumed was nothing like anything he had previously experienced. The conversation had become increasingly loud and ribald, with some very choice stories being told that had made him blush to the roots of his hair at one point. Preston, Halford and Jim seemed to be faring a little better than the older men, although they were certainly drunk. Howard was insensible at this point and there were many toasts flying back and forth between himself, Sellar and Smith.

Eventually the older gentlemen slowly started to retire to bed. Isaacs went first, then Staines begged off and finally even Kent admitted defeat. Judging from the noise above them, the sailors and soldiers on deck were currently having a marvellous competition to see who could sing the loudest while the midshipmen had been hustled off to bed after one tot only, a guarantee of a deep sleep.

At this point Ross was convinced that he was about to slide from his chair to the floor. Halford and Preston had their heads together whispering something and he caught them giving him a speculative glance. Jim was also watching him with that same wary look he had given Ross the day before just after he had kissed him.

‘I think that I have reached my limit. I bid you good night.’ Halford eventually announced to the table.

‘I will also be turning in.’ Preston added, and together they managed to get each other to their feet and staggered off, arms about each other’s shoulders. The three arguing captains barely registered their departure.

That left Jim and Ross and he looked across at Jim, who was leaning on one hand. His blue eyes were intense, making the heat flash in Ross’ chest again. His heart started to thump as Jim got up and walked over to him.

‘I think you may be a little worse for wear Lieutenant.’ he said. ‘Perhaps a turn about the quarterdeck in the fresh air would do you good.’

He held out his hand and Ross looked at it, before taking it albeit rather hesitantly. Jim hauled him up from the chair and he was instantly thankful, although he couldn’t tell if his knees were giving way from the drink or the fact that Jim was so close. Ross half expected Jim to do something, but he simply steadied him and led him out of the great cabin and up to the quarterdeck as promised.

It was dark, almost black up on deck, and the lamps shone in pools of yellow light that did not penetrate the darkness in the far corners of the ship. There were scattered forms of sleeping hands, although the more stalwart members of the watch were still awake. Mr Fletcher was making his rounds down near the bow and the quarterdeck was, as a result, completely empty. Jim hauled Ross to the stern, propping him up against the board before moving alongside him, his arms braced on the rail.

They stood in silence for a while. The air was brisk and heavy with condensation and Ross turned his head, not even making out Jim’s profile in the dim light from the lamp at the wheel.

‘Jim...’ he started and then fell silent, unsure of how to continue. He heard a soft laugh and the movement of cloth as Jim shifted position. Were it not for the gentle pressure at his arm he wouldn’t have even been able to tell he was there.

‘You need not say anything.’ Jim replied. ‘I know you are not necessarily inclined the same way as I am and if you wish it, we could simply pretend it never happened.’

That brought Ross up smartly. His alcohol fogged brain floundered for a moment at what to say and defaulted to truth.

‘You are right.’ he replied. ‘Up until I met you I had given it no thought. I have promised myself to Elizabeth and yet I find that I have not even thought of her these past few days. I do not know what magic you have put me under Jim, but I cannot and would not want to forget yesterday’s events.’

‘I am glad of that.’ Jim's voice was soft.

They returned to silence, the air so quiet they could hear each other breathing. Jim shifted his position again, moving away from Ross slightly, only to feel him move back up a little closer this time so now their sides were pressed against each other. Ross took a deep breath before he spoke.

‘Smuggling.’ He looked at Jim, watching him frown.

‘Is that a statement or a question?’ he asked.

‘Neither.’ Ross shrugged. ‘You asked why I had joined up and that is the answer.’

‘You joined the army to fight smuggling?’ Jim now sounded confused and Ross couldn’t help but chuckle at their combined conversational ineptitude. It was obviously the rum.

‘No, I was caught smuggling.’ he explained and looked away so he couldn’t see the expression on Jim’s face. ‘I was offered a choice, the gallows or the military. That is why I am here. I am not a soldier and I am not even sure that I will be one before this war is out. The irony is that I came here to avoid a quick death and I may very well be given a longer one. But, more than that, I find I now fear your judgement.’

‘It is not my place to judge your actions.’ Jim retorted. ‘You are paying the penalty set out for you and any man would abide by that. Although I do wonder why you would have done it in the first place?’

‘I am not even sure now.’ Ross muttered. ‘I suppose part of me has always balked at being subject to the wishes of others. It was also exciting and I enjoyed the risk as much as the reward’

‘That does not come as a surprise to me.’ There was a fond tone in Jim's voice that made Ross smile. ‘But you must have a care, for recklessness may truly be the death of you when you go into battle and I would not wish that.’

‘What would you wish?’ Ross asked, holding his breath for the answer.

‘That you return to me.’ Jim replied and Ross’ heart gave a leap. He was aware of the idiotic smile spreading across his face and ducked his head to hide it.

‘You have seen battle before?’ he asked.

‘Aye, too much for my liking.’ Jim was staring out over the water.

‘It’s strange but it has always seemed so far removed and even now it does not seem real to me.’ Ross admitted.

‘It will. As much as the ballads would have you believe, it is not noble or glorious. It is hard and bloody and it will change you forever the first time you kill a man.’ Jim sighed and Ross turned to the sound. This was new to him, the undefinable sadness he suddenly heard in Jim’s voice.

‘You have no taste for it?’ He was surprised, considering the occupation Jim had chosen.

‘No.’ Jim said and Ross felt him move so he was looking in his direction. ‘I love the sea and the freedom the service gives me but I would be content to never hear a gun fired again. I would live happy and loved, even if the object of my affections cannot quite seem to make up his mind as to how to pursue the matter.’

Ross heard the smile in his voice, and felt the familiar surge of emotion he now associated with it.

‘And what if he is simply afraid?’ he finally asked in return.

‘It is nothing to be ashamed of.’ Jim moved and Ross felt his hand upon his arm, a warm weight through the cloth of his coat. ‘We all have our fears.’

‘And what is yours?’ he asked and felt the movement of air between them as Jim leaned so close he could feel his breath on his face.

‘I fear that I shall fall in love with you Ross, and you will not return my affections. You will sail away from me at the end of this and marry your Elizabeth and forget me.’ he whispered and Ross closed his eyes at the touch of Jim’s hand on his face.

‘I no longer think that is possible.’ he murmured with his eyes down, voice dropping to just shy of a whisper.

‘And what would you wish?’ Jim asked after a moment's silence.

‘I would wish for you to kiss me again.’ Ross was barely audible but he heard Jim’s breath catch. The hand on his face moved to tilt his chin up and then he felt Jim’s mouth against his own, soft and slow. He responded in kind this time, emotions surging through him.

This time he took the initiative and moved his head to deepen the kiss, heat flashing through him when Jim caught him by the hair, moving so they were chest to chest. Jim placed the other hand at his hip, holding him against him. Ross felt a tentative touch against his mouth and he opened his own, unable to stifle the involuntary moan that escaped him at the first brush of Jim’s tongue against his . Emboldened by the tremor he felt running through Jim, he reached up to take his face in his hands. It was so disconcerting,feeling himself getting hard and realising that Jim was in the same condition judging by the feel of his body against his own.

They kissed until Ross was dizzy with it, before Jim pulled away and he heard them both breathing hard in the dark.

‘We cannot do this here.’ Jim said, voice thick. ‘I do not wish for either of us to do something we may regret in the morning.’

‘I will not regret anything we may do.’ Ross protested but his voice was shaking. He dropped his hands and Jim stepped away from him. They moved back to their previous position, but this time Ross copied Jim’s position, arms folded and allowed his fingers to brush the back of Jim’s hand where it rested on the rail. He felt Jim lace his fingers through his own in response so they stayed there until the first light began to colour the sky talking of nothing of consequence before the ship began to rouse itself and they headed off to their respective posts.

************

The transfer of the soldiers to land went smoothly in spite of all the extremely sore heads that were about. Captain Sellar was showing no signs of inebriation and its inevitable effects other than a little reddening of the eyes. The same could not be said for Captain Howard and Captain Smith, who were both bleary eyed and pale.

‘That man has the constitution of an ox.’ Smith grumbled, holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the morning sun. Ross, who was feeling only marginally better, agreed. The sailors were generally amiable, although he noted with some amusement that the midshipmen looked absolutely miserable.

Jim was turned out well, even if his blond hair was still a little ruffled and that damnably mobile mouth a little swollen. Ross found himself unable to look away from it whenever Jim came into his sight. For his part, the looks Jim threw him when he knew no-one was looking were starting to border on indecent and Ross felt himself blushing on more than one occasion. His exhilaration was only tempered by the fact that the Dragon was to take on fresh provisions and leave again at the next high tide that evening, although Jim had assured him that it would only be for a few days and he would be back.

*********

On the other side of the deck, Jim watched Ross directing the soldiers. He allowed himself the luxury of letting his eyes linger on Ross, taking in the long legs and arrogant tilt of the chin that seemed to have developed overnight. They caught each other’s gaze frequently and Ross’ dark eyes sparkled at him. Fortunately, Preston and Halford were too concerned with feeling ill to notice the now blatant looks he was giving Ross, thoroughly enjoying the flush of colour it bought to his cheeks.

The final cutter of soldiers had been sent off and Ross and Howard gathered their gear for the final time and prepared to go ashore. Howard made his very unsteady way down the ladder to the waiting boat and Ross turned to Jim, having already said his farewells to the others. They looked at each, a long look full of promise.

‘You will be careful.’ Ross said and Jim smiled.

‘I will take the utmost care.’ he replied.

‘Good, because you are not the only one who now wishes for a safe return.’ Ross told him. He extended his hand just as he had done weeks before and Jim took it. ‘Goodbye Lieutenant Hawkins.’

‘Goodbye Lieutenant Poldark.’ Jim smiled, his grip firm on Ross’ hand. ‘And good hunting.’

Ross nodded, then released Jim’s hand and made his way down into the cutter. Jim stood at the rail and watched them go.

*********

Once they hit land, Ross and Howard marched their troops up to the bluff and started the long process of getting them settled in. There were tents to be assigned and tasks to be given and the day passed fairly quickly. Ross was billeted in a tent at the far side of the ground and when he entered he was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face.

‘Holmewood.’ he said in greeting and a man with neatly curled light brown hair looked up, his blue eyes crinkling in welcome as he smiled at Ross.

‘Poldark.’ he responded, jumping up and taking him by the hand. ‘You took your time getting here. We have had three skirmishes already.’

‘So, I’ve heard.’ Ross grinned at him. ‘It is good to see you.’ His fellow Lieutenant had been the first man he had made friends with when he joined the regiment and was one of the few Ross had trusted with his reason for being conscripted. He was a competent soldier, unlike many officers, and a man he enjoyed being in company with.

‘Are you all settled in?’ Holmewood asked, handing him the mug of coffee he was holding. Ross took it, taking a mouthful before handing it back and grimacing at the bitter taste.

‘The men are set and Howard has gone off to see about horses.’ he explained and Holmewood snorted with laughter.

‘That is better left unremarked on. The army has managed to get hold of precious few and most of them draft stock at that. You should see mine. She is as wide as a settee and about as fast.’ he laughed.

They chatted in a friendly fashion for a while about the state of camp and the skirmishes Holmewood had mentioned, until the tent flap was moved aside and Howard stuck his head in.

‘Come on then Poldark.’ He nodded a greeting to Holmewood. ‘The detachment stables is down in town and we’ve been given permission to go and procure a couple of mounts.’

‘I will see you later and you can regale me with the story of your voyage here.’ Holmewood chuckled and waved them off.

They took a slow walk into Halifax, heading off to the detachment stables which was a collection of low roofed timber buildings on the edge of the town. There were many officers who needed mounts and so they found the choices fairly limited. Most of the horses were heavy set native animals with shaggy coats. The only ones of any quality were a chestnut gelding with a wall eye and a tall, elegant black mare with a white star on her forehead. Ross was surprised to see such an obviously good horse going begging and remarked so. The grizzled detachment sergeant in charge of the stables gave him a look of warning.

‘Do not be taken in by Bathsheba’s looks.’ he warned. ‘She’s not called the Battalion Bitch for nothing.’

‘Charming.’ Howard remarked smiling at Ross, ‘What did she do? Bite an officer in the arse?’

‘No sir, not in the arse sir.’ the old soldier replied, scratching his stubble, ‘But she has bitten every one of her officers and kicked a stable boy to death not two months ago. He pulled her tail and she weren’t having none of that. She’s a miserable God forsaken whore, if you’ll pardon my language. I’ve never been one to give an animal more credit than it’s worth, but she has a mind sir. She thinks.’

‘Sounds just up your alley, Poldark.’ Howard laughed. ‘I’ll take the chestnut if you’ll be so good.’ he directed this to the sergeant, who nodded and led him off, leaving Ross to look over the mare.

Bathsheba was, he had to admit, a fine animal. Her legs and neck were long and finely drawn, giving a promise of speed, and she had deep dark eyes in a wide head, leading down to a delicately tapered muzzle. He walked towards her stall and she swung her head towards him, slender ears swivelling in his direction as she eyed him up.

Ross moved slower, extending one hand, and the mare leaned out with her nostrils flaring gently as she took in his scent. He stood stock still and she lowered her muzzle into his hand, warm breath washing over his skin. Emboldened by her seemingly calm demeanour, he took another step towards her and she threw up her head violently, surprising him so much that he stumbled backwards and fell flat on his backside. He heard Howard laughing behind him and looked up to see the sergeant standing over him, holding out a hand. Ross took it and the sergeant hauled him to his feet and let him dust himself off. He glared at Bathsheba, who pointed her ears forward prettily and made herself look a picture of equine innocence. Never one to step away from a challenge, Ross gritted his teeth.

‘I will take her.’ he decalared and Howard’s laughter increased in volume.

Surprisingly the mare was easy to tack, standing still as Ross adjusted her saddle but when he came to fasten the girth she took an impressive breath, swelling up like a piece of waterlogged wood. Ross, who was no stranger to horses, gave her a sharp smack to the belly and she breathed in and out again quickly, but he proved faster. He gave the girth a terrific heave and tightened it sufficiently to ensure no slippage of the saddle. Bathsheba waited patiently and when Ross put his foot in the stirrup and grasped the saddle to pull himself up, she swung around with the speed of a striking snake with her teeth bared.

Miraculously, Ross’s quick reflexes saved him and he dealt her a backhanded blow to the muzzle, hard enough to shock her into retreat. While she was thus mentally occupied he took the opportunity to pull himself up and into the saddle, settling himself in and giving her a good kick before she could change her mind. Bathsheba responded instantly, breaking into a series of short bunny hops on stiff legs and Ross thanked his lucky stars that he had just recently spent eight weeks on a ship and so was not troubled by the lurching movements. He tightened the reins and rose in the stirrups, pulling her head up sharply. She was strong, but so was he and they battled for dominance for a time until she suddenly relaxed beneath him. Ross sent her into a few tight circles, changing direction suddenly to keep her off guard until he could rein her in and Bathsheba complied, coming to a standstill. Ross smiled and looked over to where the sergeant and Howard were looking at him in open mouthed amazement.

‘Well if that don’t beat all.’ The sergeant snorted. ‘I’ve seen her pull that trick before sir, but you are the first man she hasn’t unseated.’

Ross leaned down and patted her neck.

‘I think we understand each other now.’ he said and her ears flicked backwards, as if listening to him.

They rode out from the stables and he was pleasantly surprised to find her a very good ride. She had a springy, lively step and was wonderfully responsive to his hands. Ross wanted nothing more than to give her her head and see what she was made of, but Howard’s chestnut was a plodder and so they trotted along in a leisurely fashion, until they reached the camp. Once there he noticed the darkening of the sky and checked the time on his now retrieved pocket watch, alarmed to see that it had gone six-fifteen.

‘The Dragon will have already sailed.’ Howard said, noting his look of dismay, and Ross wondered exactly how much his Captain had noticed on their voyage for him to assume that was the source of his concern. ‘Although I dare say that if you ride for the headland beyond the town, you may yet catch a glimpse of her. Go on lad. I will make your excuses for you should anyone ask.’

Ross shot him a grateful look and turned Bathsheba onto the footpath that headed out towards the narrow spit of land that projected into the ocean on the right hand side of Halifax. He set his heels to her but she needed no encouragement, springing away as if blasted from a cannon. Her stride was long and elastic and it ate up the ground quickly and Ross bent low over her neck and let her run.

They followed the footpath through the wooded area that bordered on the edge of Halifax, before bursting through into an open stretch of land. It stretched out, dipping low to a stretch of shingle beach before rising up to form a long narrow spit of land that extended for about half mile into the sea. Ross pulled Bathsheba up at the start of the dip and was heartened to see the Dragon, cruising just beyond the shore with her pennants flying. He urged Bathsheba on and she broke into a full gallop as they ran the line of the dip and up onto the headland.

Ross laughed aloud, the feel of air rushing in his face and the sound of the triple beat of Bathsheba’s hooves in his ears. He pulled her up a hundred yards short of the end of the headland and looked back towards the Dragon. She sailed past and he looked in earnest for Jim, finally spotting the telltale fair head on the quarterdeck. He held Bathsheba still and raised his hand over his head in greeting, gratified to see Jim do the same. Then the Dragon turned to catch the wind and picked up speed until she disappeared over the horizon while Ross watched until he couldn’t see her anymore, then turned Bathsheba and headed back to camp.


	6. Three Rivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross' first engagement and an unexpected meeting.

It had been a week since they had arrived in Halifax and the little port was kept very busy and with the coming and going of so many ships the harbour turned into a floating city of sorts.

Ross spent endless hours running the men in their regiment through rifle drills. The 62nd Foot was used as both line and light infantry fighting with musket and bayonet in sets of two men, one to kneel and fire while the other reloaded their weapon. He worked on his own and with Holmewood, the two of them firing in quick succession to each other. Holmewood had a steady hand and sharp eye and they also amused themselves with target shooting to improve their accuracy. They were trained to skirmish in small groups as well as one defensive line and Ross, Holmewood and Howard drilled their soldiers relentlessly. There was also time needed to adapt to their new surroundings. The Canadian vegetation was thick and unfamiliar with evergreen trees that towered over them and the floor of the woods around Halifax was thick with ferns and scrub, hardly conducive to the open fire style of warfare practised by the British regiments. This meant more work with the bayonet and sword, and Holmewood and Ross fenced together.

When he was off duty, Ross went into town with Holmewood and they went drinking at the few taverns or they took their muskets and rode off into the surrounding area to hunt. Holmewood was the son of a country squire just as Ross was and they preferred to be out in the fields than tied to camp.

Ross found that he missed Jim. He missed the easy conversation and newly discovered thrill of their kisses, few as they had been. His dreams now were more often than not filled with blue eyes and dark gold hair and when they were he would wake panting and breathless, his clothing soiled with his own release. Thankfully Holmewood slept like the very dead and Ross was able to make himself presentable and clean his clothing without discovery. He also took to riding Bathsheba along the same path he had taken when the Dragon left port, always looking out to sea and waiting for a ship with a dragon figurehead to sail into sight. Jim had said they would only be a few days, but that had been ten days previously and Ross was growing impatient and a little anxious.

He was rewarded the next morning, when he awoke to Holmewood entering the tent with a message.

‘For you.’ he said, sipping from his ever present mug of coffee and handing Ross a piece of parchment. ‘It’s from a ship that arrived in the night.’

Ross bolted from his cot, dressing and shaving with the speed of a man possessed before he ran for the horse line, still clutching the parchment. He barely managed to escape a savaging from Bathsheba in his excitement, having to tack her himself as the grooms flat refused to do it, calling her all the names under the sun and keeping as far from her hooves and teeth as he could. She was already starting to move forward as he scrambled into the saddle and raced down towards the town and harbour. At the top of the bluff he looked down over Halifax and out to the water. Sure enough, he spotted the Dragon towards the eastern side of the island battery. Overcome with exhilaration, Ross sent Bathsheba careering down the hill, narrowly missing running down a group of soldiers coming up. Bathsheba had caught his excitement, kicking up her heels exuberantly and he nearly went sailing over her head, so distracted was he by the fact that the Dragon had returned, which meant that Jim had returned.

He fortunately managed to make it to the harbour in one piece. He dismounted and threw the reins to the first hand that was unwise enough to take them, giving the man enough to coin to soothe any objections after the inevitable biting occurred and headed down the dock, calling out to a small lighter that was being loaded with sacks and casks.

‘Could you take me out to the Dragon?’ he asked.

The man in the boat agreed readily after Ross offered to pay him a little more than usual and he jumped in the boat, heart going a mile a minute. They rowed out, stopping at another ship and unloading their small cargo before making the detour that took him to the Dragon. As they approached, Ross was shocked to see damage to the top of the starboard side of the hull. Not only that, but the lighters gathered around the Dragon were not carrying food and supplies, but wood planking, rope and sailcloth. He looked up to the masts and saw that a few of the sails were missing from their yards. As they pulled alongside, he saw Halford supervising a load of planking being brought aboard and called out a greeting to him. Halford looked down at hearing his name and upon catching sight of Ross, he broke into a grin.

‘Good Morning Lieutenant.’ he shouted down. ‘How goes life on the land?’

‘Invite me aboard and I will be sure to tell you.’ Ross returned the smile.

‘Of course sir.’ Halford said and had the ladder lowered. Ross climbed up as quickly as was dignified and have Halford a hearty handshake once aboard.

‘It is good to see the Dragon returned.’ he said and Halford laughed.

‘I wish your enthusiasm for our return was equalled by others.’ he replied. ‘But we have been most unfortunate in our hunt.’

‘How so?’ Ross asked. ‘And what on earth has happened to the ship?’ He looked around, suddenly noticing that the damage on the bow was echoed on deck. A sizeable chunk was missing from the larboard rail at the bow as well and the foremast appeared to also have sustained damage.

‘It was pirates, Lieutenant.’ Ross turned at the familiar voice and saw Riley behind him, one arm in a sling.

‘Privateers, Mr Riley.’ Halford corrected.

Ross gave the boy a once over. His face was a little pale and he had dark shadows under his eyes, although he seemed well otherwise. Ross greeted him then looked at the arm.

‘What happened to you?’ he asked.

‘Dislocated shoulder, sir.’ He looked rather morose and Ross made a sympathetic face.

‘Mr Riley be a good lad and go tell Mr Hawkins that he has a visitor. I’m sure that he would not thank you if he were to discover that he had not taken advantage of every possible moment the Lieutenant was aboard.’ Halford addressed the boy.

Riley walked off rather sedately for him and Ross looked enquiringly at Halford, noticing that he was also looking particularly tired.

‘He fell rather hard against the capstan when we were hit with the first barrage.’ Halford explained and Ross felt a lurch in his stomach. Seeing his face, Halford gave him a comforting smile. ‘Do not concern yourself Lieutenant, Jim is all right. He is just catching up on sleep, having spent the last four watches on deck.’

‘Why so many?’ Ross asked.

‘We ran into a small fleet just north of Boston,’ Halford moved aside briefly to instruct several men with regards to the storage of the sailcloth that had just been brought aboard. ‘We tracked the bastards down to Brunswick, and then engaged them. It was ourselves and the Agamemnon. They were good though, managed to get a few shots in before he could take them. They led us a merry chase out towards the shoals, and tried to double round. They know these waters better than we do and it was a hard chase.’ He looked over Ross’ shoulder and smiled. ‘Ah, there you are Jim. You have a visitor.’

He nodded to Ross and left them to each other.

‘So I see.’ said the familiar voice and Ross turned, unable to contain his smile as he saw Jim standing behind him. His hair was tied but strands of it had escaped and fallen about his face, which seemed unnaturally drawn. He looked as exhausted as the rest of the crew and his normally clear blue eyes were a little unfocused. Ross noted that was wearing his coat but his stock had been left off, and the collar was open, which was most unlike him. Ross stared blatantly at the tanned skin of his throat and his collar bones where there was a glint of dark gold hair showing, his appraisal getting interrupted by a short laugh from Jim.

‘As much as I appreciate that look Lieutenant, we might be better served if we go below.’ Jim said and the dimples sprang to life alongside the mocking smile Ross now knew so well.

He followed Jim below decks, almost vibrating with the need to reach out and touch him, his face, his hand, anything. They descended into the gloom below and traced the familiar route to the gun room where Jim gestured for Ross to take a seat and sent one of the ship’s boys for wine. Isaacs and Staines were both in attendance, Isaacs writing in the ship’s provisions ledger and Staines making notes in his notebook. They both greeted Ross amiably and asked after his well-being before Ross turned back to Jim, letting his eyes trace the lines of his face.

‘You look tired.’ he said, trying to convey a world of meaning in those three words. Jim rested his chin in his hand.

‘I am, in fact the whole crew is. It was a hard fight.’ His smile was now weary.

‘Was the result agreeable?’ Ross asked, nodding as the boy came back with wine. Jim poured it out for them and handed him a glass.

‘As well as could be expected.’ He took a sip of his wine and rubbed his eyes with one hand, still seemingly trying to wake up. ‘We sank one, a brig which was old and slow, and took another which was a fine little cutter. Preston took command of her and is currently sailing her with a small crew into Quebec. She will be worth a fair bit of prize money.’

‘Halford said there were three ships.’ Ross ventured and Jim nodded.

‘Aye, the third was something else. She was mercilessly quick, and her crew were fine shots. It was she that did the damage you saw up on deck.’ he explained.

‘Did you have many injured?’ Ross asked and Staines answered.

‘We lost four hands and young Riley has a dislocated shoulder. Mr Fletcher took a large splinter to the forehead, but it was a mercifully shallow wound. Other than that we were lucky to get away with mostly bruises and cuts. Ask Mr Hawkins to show you his side.’ He grinned at Jim and Ross turned back to him, his eyes widening. Jim made a face and pulled up his shirt exposing his flat abdomen where there was a line of fine black stitching running across his left flank. Ross looked at him aghast and Jim sighed.

‘It is nothing, truly.’ he said but that didn't stop Ross from glaring at him.

‘A cutlass wound to the abdomen is nothing to sneer at, Mr Hawkins.’ Staines said, over his pince-nez. Ross’ mouth dropped open and Jim hastened to minimise the effect of Staines’ words.

‘It was just a cut, I was not exactly run through.’ he hastened to reassure Ross, but Ross was having none of it.

‘How?’ he demanded, his voice flat and not a little unhappy.

‘I took the first boarding party that captured the clipper.’ Jim told him. ‘Hence the reason you find me abed while everyone else is on deck working to fix the ship, except for Captain Sellar who has gone into town to meet Lord Bellingham to discuss our new orders.’

‘Will you be leaving again so soon?’ Ross asked, a rush of disappointment coursing through him. ‘You have only just arrived.’

‘Three days to fix up ship and take on stores.’ Jim replied. ‘Although we do have the privilege of having two days shore leave in alternate watches. Mine is tomorrow for First Watch. I thought we might meet and you could show me Halifax.’

‘Certainly.’ Ross agreed. ‘Will you be coming alone?’ A small part of him was praying that he would be and they would have the opportunity to be alone and try some of the things that had been disturbing his sleep so recently.

‘I will not,’ Jim smiled knowingly at him, almost as if he had read Ross’ mind. ‘Halford will be coming with me and Preston is en-route to Quebec so he will need cheering up.’ He laughed then at the fierce expression on Ross’ face. ‘Don’t look so gloomy Ross. I am sure we will have ample opportunity to catch up with each other.’

There was a distinct tone to those words and Ross raised an eyebrow at him but Jim’s face was carefully blank. He then changed the subject, asking about the regimental camp. Ross recounted what he had been doing and told Jim about Holmewood.

‘I have also have a most enchanting lady I wish you to meet.’ He smiled at the way Jim’s expression changed, that little flash of anger, before the cheerful expression was back in place. ‘Have no fear, she has four legs not two. Her name is Bathsheba and she is widely regarded as the devil in equine form in camp. I have had to bribe the stable men to look after her as she has a most fearsome temper. Perhaps if you return before we make for Quebec you could come out for a ride. If you ride that is.’

‘Of course I ride.’ Jim replied, still a little sharp. His expression softened a bit before he replied in a more neutral voice ‘I cannot be sure that we will return before you make for Quebec though, although I believe we will be there after mid-June so we will no doubt be able to reacquaint ourselves then. You can always leave word with the harbour master for me.’

‘Well, I will hold out hope.’ Ross contented himself with a quick brush of Jim’s hand which thankfully went unnoticed.

************

After he'd returned to land, Ross waited eagerly for First Watch, which began at eight o’clock in the evening.

He was dressed and waiting at the dock a full twenty minutes before, pacing back and forth, chewing on not just one but all his fingernails in succession. He had no idea why he was behaving in the manner of a young lady before her first dance but he had bathed, even going so far as washing his hair so it hung thick and glossy before catching it back in a black ribbon. He'd put on a clean uniform and checked himself over carefully to make sure he looked immaculate and now he was full of trepidation at what Jim might think of him.

He could not see very far out and heard the pinnace before he saw it. It drew into the light of the dock lantern and he could see Jim and Halford with a few other hands in the boat. It pulled up to the dock and they alighted one by one so Ross strode over, putting his hand down to Halford, who took it as he climbed up to the dock. He then extended to the same offer of help to Jim, feeling the tingle as their skin came into contact. It was such a small touch, but at that moment it inflamed Ross more than any had before. Their eyes locked and held and Jim smiled back, the touch flashing in his eyes.  
Halford stood on the dock, hands on his hips, looked around appraisingly.

‘So where do we go for supper?’ he asked Ross, who was forced to drop Jim’s hand and bring himself back to the situation at hand.

He led them both to a small eating house not too far into the town, which was commonly frequented by soldiers and sailors. It was fairly busy, but they managed to find an unoccupied table. Ross secured the seat next to Jim, pressing up against him as close as he dared in public. His actions were appreciated and he got a sideways smile for his efforts.

They had barely made a dent in their first round of beer before a voice hailed Ross from across the room. It was Holmewood and he came striding through the tavern, deftly avoiding the growing crowd of patrons, but managing to almost upset the serving girl, who he danced around before taking her hand and kissing it in a grand gesture. She giggled and blushed prettily and Holmewood came to the table and dropped into an empty seat, watching her go back to the bar, hips swaying as she moved.

‘Here you are Poldark.’ he declared. ‘I have been looking all over town for you.’

‘What for?’ Ross asked, annoyed at yet another obstacle in his quest to get Jim alone and preferably into a dark corner before the evening was out.

‘We are to leave for Quebec tomorrow.’ Holmewood told him, leaning back in his chair and winking at the now returned serving girl as she plonked an ale down in front of him. He took a long drink, and then cast his eyes over the other occupants of the table, fixing Ross with a questioning look. Ross took the hint and introduced them.

‘Lieutenants Hawkins and Halford of the HMS Dragon.’ he explained.

‘A pleasure.’ Holmewood shook the pre-offered hands. ‘You’re the ones that are on the hunt for the California?’

‘We are.’ Halford confirmed. ‘Although she’s proving damn hard to find, since we lost her. No other ships coming into port had even had a sniff.’

‘I hear she caused you some trouble.’ Holmewood chuckled.

‘Nothing too serious.’ Jim replied. ‘A few shots raked the bow and deck but the Dragon will be fixed up by the time we need to leave again. That was the privateer we ran into.’

‘So, what sets the California apart and makes her so difficult to catch?’ Holmewood asked. Their food arrived and this time he sent the serving girl away with a smack to the rear, which had her squealing in mock outrage and casting him alluring looks over her shoulder as she retreated.

‘She’s a finely built ship.’ Halford explained. ‘One thing you cannot fault the Americans on is their shipbuilding. She is fast and takes the wind well.’

‘However.’ Jim interjected. ‘She was overconfident. She thought us an easy target and if we had a lesser captain she would no doubt have sunk us, but Sellar is wily. He won’t make the mistake again of letting them take us by surprise.’

‘Aye.’ Halford agreed. ‘Once we are more familiar with these waters we will flush her from where she is hiding and, God willing, take her as a prize.’

They continued to talking over their meal, although Ross was getting progressively frustrated with Jim’s proximity and the fact that he was socially bound to do nothing while in company. Jim, however, was deep in conversation with Halford and Holmewood, all three holding deep seated opinions on the strategies of battle and how best to corner the California or the American troops at Trois Rivieres, which Ross had learned during the course of the conversation were still a cause of concern.

‘There are still pockets of them left over from when they tried to take Quebec at Christmas.’ Holmewood stated. ‘We are planning a march up the Saint Lawrence valley to dig them out of whatever hiding places they may have, and hopefully put an end to the raids on the Quebec outskirts. The 62nd is going to be right in the thick of it with any luck.’ Ross allowed himself a small sigh. Holmewood was army born and bred and had the typical attitude of an officer that it was better to be in the action than out of it.

Halford looked across at Jim.

‘Time?’ he asked.

‘A little after eleven.’ Holmewood replied, checking his pocket watch.

‘We should be on our way.’ Halford stood up, shifting his chair back. ‘We must be back on board before our watch begins at midnight.’

Ross sat up and couldn’t help shooting Jim a small dismayed look. It surely hadn’t been four hours already and he still hadn’t managed to have any kind of conversation with Jim that did not concern the army, navy or privateers.

‘You are not wrong, although it is a pity we do not have more time.’ Jim sounded apologetic, having noted the look.

They all rose from the table, Halford and Hawkins shaking Holmewood’s hand once again.

‘It was good to meet you both.’ Holmewood smiled. ‘Perhaps next time you are ashore we may do this again. Shall we head off Poldark?’

Ross started to answer, but was cut off by Jim who interjected smoothly.

‘Actually I wish to have a few words with Lieutenant Poldark if you don’t mind. Perhaps you could wait while he accompanies us back to the dock. I am sure you will not want for company.’ he looked pointedly at the serving girl who was hovering near by, giving Holmewood hopeful looks.

‘A capital idea.’ Holmewood had thankfully missed Ross’ own hopeful look. ‘I’ll shall met you outside in, say, twenty minutes.’

Ross was so busy extricating himself from the corner of his seat in his haste to get out of the tavern that he almost missed Holmewood’s words.

‘Yes,’ he finally agreed, after a nudge from Jim. ‘That will fine.’

They left, leaving Holmewood with the serving girl now ensconced in his lap, and headed back out onto the streets. Halifax was quiet now, as most people had headed to bed. Ross led them down an alley between the customs house and a large wooden warehouse, through to the docks. Halford walked slightly in front, Jim and Ross a few steps behind. Ross was finding it hard to breathe in anticipation and jumped a little when he felt Jim’s hand on his arm, restraining him.

‘Halford, a moment if you please.’ he asked and Halford turned. He gave them a look, then his shy smile appeared.

‘Of course.’ he said, ‘I will wait at the end for you Jim. Just don’t be too long.’ There was a hint of laughter in his voice, and he turned back and headed down the alley, leaving Ross and Jim in the dark.

‘It’s about bloody time,’ Ross started to speak once he was out of earshot but he got no further, as Jim took him by the lapels and pushed him none too gently up against the wall of the customs house, before leaning up and kissing him hard enough to bruise. It completely took Ross’ breath away and he could not speak when Jim finally released him.

‘I have missed you Ross.’ Jim murmured, his voice low.

‘As have I.’ he managed to reply. ‘I could curse Holmewood for showing up like that. At least we could have gotten rid of Halford.’

Jim chuckled, and took Ross’ face in his hands, running his thumbs along his cheekbones.

‘Well we have a little time. Do you wish to continue grumbling about Holmewood or shall I kiss you instead?’ He smiled up at him, his face in shadow.

Ross returned his smile and leaned down, kissing him eagerly. Jim moved up against him so Ross’ back was pressed flat against the wall. His hands moved to Jim’s waist, clutching at his coat and pulling him as close as he could possibly get. He lost all sense of place, only aware of the taste of Jim’s open mouth and the weight of his body against him as their kisses grew heated. Jim pulled away suddenly and Ross gasped at the unexpected feeling of Jim’s hand on him.

‘I certainly wish we had more time to take care of this.’ Jim was dotting light kisses along Ross’ jaw as his hand worked him below. ‘But this will have to suffice for now.’

Ross was completely incoherent by this point and could only moan softly, thrusting helplessly against Jim’s hand, his arms about Jim’s shoulders holding on desperately for fear that if he should let go now his knees would give out completely. It didn’t take long for him to reach release, his body shaking uncontrollably as he tried to muffle his strangled cry in Jim’s shoulder. He threw his head back, letting the wall support his body, just making out Jim’s bright smile in the dark before he leaned forward heavily, their mouths connecting with little finesse. Jim eventually pushed him back, gently this time with one hand against Ross’ chest.

‘I must away,’ he whispered. ‘But I hope to see you in Quebec.’

In his current state, Ross could only nod. Jim gave him a last quick kiss and left him there in the alley, looking back once as he reached the end before he moved out of Ross' line of sight.

Ross waited until he was able to breathe properly again and returned to the tavern, making himself a little more presentable as he walked and grimacing at the mess in his breeches. He found Holmewood round the side of the building with the serving girl pressed up against the wall beneath him, one hand up her petticoats. He whistled and ten minutes after Holmewood came jogging out the alley, doing up his own breeches.

‘Apologies.’ He was grinning at Ross. ‘But you know how it is.’

Ross, who certainly did now, shook his head and laughed at him. They returned to camp together, each seemingly lost in thought until Holmewood spoke, interrupting Ross’ reverie.

‘Is he the one you went to see this morning?’ His face was full of curiosity.

‘Who?’ Ross said without thinking.

‘The fair haired lieutenant that you are so obviously taken with.’ Holmewood replied with a wicked grin.

‘I am not taken with him, he is but a friend.’ Ross protested.

‘The way your eyes never left him the entire evening would state otherwise.’ Holmewood chuckled. ‘You would do well to be a little more discreet in your affections, not everyone will be as understanding as I.’

‘And are you understanding?’ Ross asked warily.

‘Of course. I do not judge a man by who he fucks. It is his words and deeds I am interested in. Besides, this is possibly the happiest I have ever seen you look. What exactly were you doing on your walk down to the docks?’ His words hit home and Ross blushed furiously at Holmewoods teasing tone.

‘A gentleman does not recount such things.’ he replied and Holmewood laughed.

‘Indeed.’ he snickered. ‘But it must have been spectacular for you are grinning like a maniac.’ At that Ross laughed with him and they continued to camp.

Preparations for Quebec were well underway the next day. Troops, supplies and horses were rounded up and carted off to the docks where they were loaded onto the ships that would carry them around Nova Scotia and the relatively short distance to the town. The 62nd were only due to depart the following day, and Ross spent an exhausting twelve hours ensuring everything was in place and trying to convince the captain of the ship that was carrying them that Bathsheba would not kick a hole in the hull if she was loaded onto the ship.

Bathsheba didn’t help matters by stepping on Ross’ toe repeatedly during the conversation, as if trying to convey her most sincere wish not to be shipped off to Quebec. Ross shoved her off his foot and fed her a surreptitious lump of sugar which pacified her. He had discovered this to be a particular weakness of hers that he could exploit to great effect, although it was costing him a fortune in sugar.

He assisted the hands in getting the harnesses strapped around her body and watched as she was hauled into the air and lowered into the hold of the ship. Once she was on, he climbed aboard himself and got her safely confined in the makeshift stall next to Daredevil, the entirely misnamed chestnut plodder that was Howard’s mount, and poor Daisy, the monstrous black and white animal that Holmewood had been landed with. Bathsheba was furious, kicking out against the side of the stall, and it took the princely sum of six sugar lumps to calm her.

‘You are going to bankrupt me.’ Ross muttered, stroking her face as she crunched. He left her and went up on deck, with instructions for the crew that he alone would care for her. The route to Quebec was short, a few days at best and a week at most, but he would be keeping a close eye on her. He stood at the rail and looked out to where he could just make out the masts of the Dragon. There were far too many ships crowding the little harbour for him to get any kind of view of the deck, so he went back down below to the horses.

**************

_Quebec, June 1st 1776_

The journey to Quebec was uneventful. Ross spent most of his waking hours in the hold with the horses, soothing Bathsheba with endless hours of grooming and attention and she returned his devotion by biting a chunk out of one of the ship’s boys that got too close.

By the time Quebec came into view, the entire ship’s crew was glad to see the back of them, Ross being tainted by association.

Quebec itself was quite a bit larger than Halifax, with many modern buildings constructed from red brick, and wide avenues. The ship they were on was not unloaded, however, but held in port. It was rumoured that further troops led by the American commander John Thomas were holed up at Sorel, a little further along the Saint Laurent River. The ship was to only stop over for one night in Quebec before heading for Trois Riviéres, which was the nearest settlement.

Ross was itching to see some sort of action. He was infernally sick of sitting around waiting and the constant drudgery of shuffling men from one place to another. It had been a full three months since he had left England and he was fed up with it. His encounter with the Jim the two nights before had also wound him up to the point of exploding, for while it had provided him with some short term relief he was now even more enamoured than previously, and the young navy officer occupied much of his waking thoughts. Holmewood and Howard spent their time playing cards in the ship’s hold with him and he lost more money than he should have to them. He really was abysmal at cards. Eventually he pleaded his pocket and went up on deck, looking out over the lights of Quebec and thinking about Jim.

The ships left Quebec the next morning for the even shorter journey down to Trois Riviéres. Thick greenery crowded the banks of the broad stretch of water, and the cruise itself proved to be most pleasant. They came to the settlement around noon which was a collection of buildings clustered at the river’s edge, with a series of hills rising the distance behind it where they spent the rest of the day unloading and setting up camp. By the evening everyone was where they should be and the waiting began again.

The first signs of trouble came from reports by scouts and spies from the local militia that there was movement near Sorel and beyond, and the news that Thomas had died of the pox on June the second. It was the morning of June the 8th that the call went round camp. A stream of American troops had been spotted crossing the river to Pointe du Lac in the dead of night by a keen sighted militia captain, who then rode hell for leather to report to Fraser.

The order had come in the early hours of the morning when the camp was quiet except for the guards on watch and Ross and Holmewood were both asleep when the bugle call went out. They both woke with a start and fell out of their cots, dressing as quickly as they could. Once dressed, they grabbed their muskets and left the tent, noting the general sense of urgency as troops rushed to get themselves in a semblance of order.

The order came for a line of fire to be set up on the southern end of the town blocking the road in, with the 62nd sent out to the western edges to guard against an attack from the woods. Howard took Ross and Holmewood and about three hundred men with him to form the main line at the fringe of the woods and leaving the other two hundred to form a secondary line of defence. The woods to the south-west were thick and a good place to approach from unseen.

The night was fairly clear as they moved into position, bunking down and settling in for the wait. Ross looked across to where Howard was waiting in line with another Lieutenant that Ross did not recognise. It was not easy to keep track of five hundred men, and he only really knew those under his immediate command. The night was a little chilly but not cold, and he could almost imagine that they were on a hunt, waiting for dawn.

It was light when they were alerted to the commencement of action by the distant sound of artillery fire and the unmistakable sound of distant ships' cannons. He gripped his musket tighter and looked across at Holmewood, who looked back and nodded. They got into position for firing, muskets aimed toward the line of the woods, where they would be able to take down the first line of attackers that emerged. The soldiers would work in teams of two, just as he and Holmewood did, with one firing while the other would reload. The more likely scenario however, was that they would probably get off one or maybe two shots before the fight would turn to close quarters with rifle butt and bayonet.

There was a stealthy sound from the woods beyond and Ross’ sharp ears caught the rustle of vegetation beyond that which could be expected from the light breeze that blew across the meadow they were in. He lifted his musket to his shoulder, sighting along the barrel and watching for the first hint of movement. The sounds ceased and all fell to silence. Ross slowed his breathing, eyes narrowing as he focused at the edge of the woods. Holmewood stood a pace behind him, musket raised and powder and shot at the ready. He would shoot first, then reload while Ross took the second shot and then they would trade position. Ross felt his mouth go dry as the tension became almost unbearable.

When the break came it was from the woods to his right. Ross heard the first shots go off and held his nerve, knowing he should not shoot until he had a man his sights. It was too easy to shoot across the line and take out one of your own advancing soldiers, so he waited for what seemed like an eternity but which was probably in reality only a few seconds. Time slowed down for him, reduced to nothing but the sound of his own breathing and the weight of the musket in his hands. He saw movement in front of him and heard Holmewood’s musket fire. The person moving in front of him dropped, and he heard the sounds of Holmewood reloading, his hands quick and sure. Another movement and Ross fired his own weapon, watching the man drop before rising smoothly to his feet as Holmewood moved in front of him and dropped to his knee, raising his musket to fire. Ross ignored him and everything else around him, focused on reloading. He primed the weapon, reaching for and taking the cartridge from the bag at his hip, ripping the end with his teeth before pouring the power into the pan and spitting out the twist of paper. He lowered the musket taking care not to place it on the ground, then poured the rest of the gunpowder and the shot into the barrel, shoving the paper in after it. He them tamped it down firmly with the ramrod, withdrawing it and replacing it quickly once it had done its job, then brought the musket up smoothly. He did not get a chance to drop to firing position, as the men in the woods were now breaking from the woodline and running in crooked lines up towards them too quickly.

He aimed and fired, gratified to see a man drop as his shot hit true, but he did not have time for anything else as the line of attackers was upon him. The man in front of him swung his rifle and Ross’ training kicked in. He ducked instinctively, swinging his musket in a strong arc into the man’s ribs. His attacker let out a rush of air, and Ross switched the musket to his other hand, bringing it up and across and connecting with the side of the man’s head dropping him to the ground before bayoneting him clean through the chest. The whole attack took barely ten seconds to perform, and Ross could feel nothing but a powerful surge of adrenaline, his blood pounding in his ears.

He recovered, bracing his boot against the man’s chest to pull his bayonet free, then moved forward, using the same technique he had used countless times in the training field when he had discovered he was being dispatched to fight, citing his unwillingness to die for a cause he had not signed up to as powerful motivation. He cut down three men in quick succession before a break allowed him to reload. The attackers continued to come and he let off his shot before wading back into the fight. The men he was fighting were not disciplined, and indeed seemed to be untrained in close quarter combat, and Ross made easy work of another two, before a shot rang out so close it made his ears ring and as he turned, he felt the distinctive brush of air that signalled a musket ball flying so close past his face that he at first thought he should be dead.

Instead he lost his balance, dropping to a knee. A shadow fell across him and he looked up to see a man above him, so close that they could look each other in the eye. The man raised the butt of his rifle and Ross threw himself to the side, but not quick enough that he avoided the butt that connected with his cheekbone hard enough for him to hear it crack. The shock wave made him dizzy and disorientated for a moment and he stared stupidly up at the man before another shot, strangely muffled in his ears, rang out and he saw the man drop, a red flower blossoming on his chest. He turned towards the sound of the shot and saw Howard lower his rifle. He smiled in thanks, then became aware of warmth trickling down his face. He raised his hand to his cheek and it came away wet and red.

The last thing he thought of before he blacked out was the feel of Jim’s hands him, and then he toppled forward into the dirt.


	7. The Annabelle and a Night in Halifax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a reunion.

_The Eastern Seaboard, Thirty miles out. Late June 1776._

The sun reflected off the water with an almost blinding brilliance as the Dragon was cruising off the coast of Nova Scotia. She had been at sea since she had left Halifax two days after Ross had been dispatched to Quebec, the same night Jim had returned to the ship almost shaking from their encounter and had found himself to be horribly distracted the next day, a situation that Halford had noted with great amusement being no stranger to side alley encounters himself. He was also delighted because they had encountered the Achilles the previous day on her way back from Quebec bearing one Second Lieutenant Preston among her crew, who had been sent across with mail and intelligence for Captain Sellar informing him that the Californian had raided a small coastal settlement on the north coast of Nova Scotia and had been reported heading south. Sellar had wasted no time in setting course and following hot on her heels, but unfortunately they had not seen hide nor hair of her since.

Jim raised his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. He was on the forcastle deck with Preston and Riley, all three of them set to take the noon reading. Their watch had been quiet so far, not a sign of anyone else at sea but themselves. As strange as it seemed that ships could patrol such a small area without encountering each other regularly, Jim knew from experience in the West Indies that it was possible to slip by another ship during the night, and then spend the day hidden in a cove or bay. This was a well-practised tactic of privateers and the North American and Canadian coastlines held many such places where a captain who was well familiarised with the best hiding spots could elude them for days. Preston had the deck as the senior officer, but the lack of activity meant that he had been forced to resort to his favourite form of entertainment, namely baiting Jim and trying to get a rise out of him. He was absolutely livid that he had missed the night in Halifax, and had been pestering Jim for details since Halford had casually dropped the tale of the meeting into conversation. After getting Riley to call noon he sent him back down deck to the quarterdeck and gave Jim a look of considered speculation, chewing on his lower lip as he studied him closely. Jim ignored him as long as possible, before finally turning with an exasperated expression.

‘Will you stop examining me like some kind of curiosity?’ he snapped, and Preston smiled, happy to have gotten a reaction of any kind, even a negative one.

‘I will once you confess your scandalous deeds.’ he retorted, his grey eyes sparkling.

‘You sound like a cheap pamphlet of licentious literature.’ Jim snapped, turning back to scan the horizon, ‘And my deeds are hardly scandalous, especially when compared with yours. I know things about you and Halford that would get you locked up in the brig for a week and if you persist in interrogating me I shall have no recourse but to use them.’

‘Except for the small matter of everyone expecting such behaviour of me.’ Preston was grinning at him, completely unfazed. ‘So, I think at best it will be two days in the brig. You, on the other hand are the soul of discretion and hardly likely to engage in such illicit encounters, which is what makes this situation all the more intriguing. Halford was quite clear about what he heard going on in that alley.’

‘Halford needs to learn to hold his tongue.’ muttered Jim, folding his arms and frowning.

‘He would, but I have a gift for getting him to part with information.’ Preston’s smile was now positively wicked. ‘The question is, what on earth made you lose your head in such a fashion?’ His silvery eyes shone with glee at Jim’s discomfort.

Jim gritted his teeth and ignored him. It was true what Preston said and ordinarily he took great care to make sure his encounters were as discreet as possible. It was not his custom to so casually engage in what Preston had just described as “illicit encounters” anywhere he may be caught even if Halford had been standing watch, just as he had done so many times for them. He had simply found himself unable to control the sudden rise of passion that had had caught him, mostly driven by the uninhibited way Ross had kissed him as if a dam had burst and all the pent up feelings he usually kept so controlled had simply become too much to contain. Even now he could close his eyes and remember the feel of Ross under his hand and the sound of his breathing, hot and heavy on Jim’s neck, making it very difficult for him to concentrate on anything of much consequence.

‘I do believe the gallant lieutenant has completely bewitched you.’ Preston remarked, noting the distant look on Jim’s face, ‘You’re going to be quite useless to us for at least a few days until you get yourself under control again.’

‘Only until the next time I see him,’ Jim said, a little sullenly if he was being honest with himself. ‘The whole situation is utterly ridiculous.’

‘No it’s not, ‘Preston said, ‘it’s quite normal for the condition you are currently suffering from. It’s just that you have never encountered this condition before, so you have no point of reference.’

‘And what, pray tell, might my condition be exactly, Will?’ Jim could not keep the sarcasm from his voice.

‘You’re falling in love.’ Preston stated smugly, neatly dodging the retaliatory swipe.

****************

It was three days later when they got the first sighting of a ship on the outer edges of the Grand Banks in damp, foggy weather, due south east of Nova Scotia.

Jim was sound asleep in his cot, the time not having reached four o’clock when the entire ship would awaken. The gentle riding of the ships bow over the waves always proved the most effective of lullabies. He woke with a start, his body and mind so attuned to the sound of rushed footsteps outside his cabin that his motions were automatic and was up and out of the cot in a flash, pulling on boots and coat but not bothering to dress any further. He left his cabin and ran almost face first into Blythe who had hurtled down from the aft gangway, taking hold of the boy’s shoulder and pulling him out of the path of Staines and Lamb, who were starting to set up the gun room as their makeshift surgery.

‘Mr Hawkins sir.’ Blythe's voice was squeaking with excitement, ‘A sail, sir. The captain requires you on deck.’

‘I am on my way Mr Blythe.’ Jim pulled his unbound hair back and tied it off even as he moved up the gangway. ‘Please return to your station after you get Mr Preston.’ It was always a necessary evil to rouse Preston who had even been known to sleep through guns firing a full broadside.

Leaving Blythe to it, Jim came up amidst frantic activity, dodging hands and marines until he made it onto the quarterdeck where Halford and Craddock were standing, while Stirling was running up the ship’s colours. Halford saw him and nodded forward.

‘There is a sail, three points off the larboard bow and about two miles distant due north east. We think it’s her.’ His green eyes were alight with excitement.

‘The California?’ Jim asked and Halford shrugged.

‘I cannot say.’ He was grinning though, so Jim knew that he had his suspicions.

‘The captain?’ Jim looked down the ship but the bustle obscured his view.

‘Down with Mr Fletcher at the bow. We have the weather gauge so this is an excellent opportunity.’ Halford’s smile was now wolfish. He enjoyed the chase as much as the encounter and like Sellar was particularly good at understanding how to position the ship to the best advantage. ‘They are taking the measure of the wind and deciding how best to approach.’

Preston came up on the quarterdeck, a flurry of coat and shirt being righted and still looking dishevelled. Halford gave him an unimpressed look, but Preston just returned it with bright smile.

‘To battle stations?’ he asked, raking his fingers through his untidy black hair.

‘Not just yet.’ Halford replied. ‘The captain will give the order.’

They waited, watching as Sellar returned.

‘The wind is coming up from the south.’ he declared as he ascended the quarterdeck nodding to Jim and Preston. ‘I have ordered Mr Fletcher to put us into the wind and let’s see if we can give her a bloody good chase.’

‘Is it the California sir?’ Halford asked. Sellar shrugged.

‘Not sure. She’s flying American colours though and that I believe makes her fair game. I do not think so, for she seems to me to sitting too shallow in the water for her to be the California but we shall give chase none the less. One less ship for us to worry about. We shall head north-north east with the wind, Jack.’ He nodded to Halford and he turned to Craddock.

‘Aye sir. North-north east if you please, Mr Craddock.’ he said to the helmsman, who spun the wheel.

‘If we make enough time, we should be on her within the hour.’ Sellar said. He turned to Jim and Preston. “That will give you both time to turn out properly before we engage. You can then get to your stations and go over the guns. I want grape shot loaded and we’ll fire for her rigging. That way we should disable her enough to board her quickly. Make sure the midshipmen are ship shape as well.’

Jim and Preston acknowledged the order and went below. Once at their cabins they began the formalities of getting themselves presentable.

‘I was having truly a wonderful dream.’ Preston lamented. ‘Jack and I were on that beach we found in Trinidad and we were..’

‘Stop.’ Jim waved a hand at him. ‘I really have no need to hear how that particular story ends.’ Preston smirked.

‘I’ll bet your dreams are full of long legs and dark Cornish eyes.’ he chuckled.

‘Not today they’re not.’ Jim said, ‘Today they’re full of keeping myself alive long enough to get back to Quebec.’

They made their way up to the gun deck and began the task of rigorously checking over their respective stations where the two batteries of twelve guns with their eight men crews were waiting to be run out. The youngest ship’s boys, the powder monkeys, were in attendance as well and keeping well to the rear corner of their station. It could be death for any grown sailor never mind themselves were they to be hit by a recoiling gun.

The gun crews were already on alert, having cleared away all obstacles to the running of the guns. They saw to it that each gun was primed with grape shot, manned and the midshipmen at the ready. Jim took his station at the starboard battery and Preston at the larboard. They would wait there until the time came for engagement, and the order given to fire. Jim felt the Dragon pick up speed as all sails unfurled above them. He leaned forward looking through the single open gun port at the white froth tipped waves and noted their speed. He glanced across at Preston who was doing the same over his shoulder.

‘Ten knots I reckon. Not bad.’ Preston remarked, ‘If the wind picks up a little we will catch them easily.’

‘Aye.’ Jim agreed and looked down the line at the eleven guns under his command. He had Riley, Blythe, Lee and Wrenham on three guns each. The midshipmen were all business now, eyes and ears alert, so different from their usually easily distracted manner. The gun crews crouched in readiness, the tension thick in the air.

**************

On deck Sellar and Halford stood at the bow again. Sellar had the spyglass to his eye. He could just make out the colours, a striped green and red flag that marked the vessel as American. He looked up at the rigging, the full square rig of the ship catching all the available wind and making her almost unbeatable for speed then turned to Fletcher, who was haranguing the men from the main deck.

‘Mr Fletcher what do you make of it?’ he shouted and Fletcher gestured and two hands jumped to take the reading, one throwing the chip log overboard, while the other timed. The one with the line counted then called back to Fletcher who then relayed the speed to Sellar.

‘Twelve knots sir.’ he called.

‘Good, but not fast enough.’ Sellar said to Halford, before striding back down towards the quarterdeck. ‘I want at least thirteen, if not fourteen.’

‘You’ll be getting that at a push sir.’ Fletcher replied.

‘Then we push!’ Sellar bellowed and Halford jumped. ‘We’ll keep to her larboard side I think, where the fog is thickest. With any luck she won’t even know we are there until the last minute.'

‘Aye sir.’ Fletcher went back to his duties.

The chase was a fair one. As they drew closer the fog cleared a little and all of Sellar’s cursing would not bring it back again. It was obvious the ship had sighted them, for she put on a terrific burst of speed as all her sails were rigged.

She turned out to be a light schooner, swift and manoeuvrable but barely carrying any guns. She had cut across their path, tacking into the wind as best she could, but the Dragon was pulling ever nearer. Sellar was in fine form now, laughing in the face of the spray that leapt up. He had taken the wheel from Craddock and threw her hard to larboard, tracing an arc from behind the other ship, which was now so close they could see her nameplate and identify her as the Annabelle. Her captain was at the stern, his own spyglass trained on the Dragon. Halford could just catch the glint of the sunlight off the lens as he stood at the bow. He turned to Stirling who was with them.

‘Mr Stirling, please advise the captain that we have definitely been spotted.’ he said, and Stirling responded immediately.

‘Aye sir.’ He tipped his hat and headed aft. Not a moment later came the call to beat to quarters.

*********

Down below Jim felt the list of the Dragon as she heeled to starboard, reaching one hand up to brace himself against the turn. The call came to beat to quarters and he began to feel the familiar flutter of tension in his stomach of going into an engagement.

Jim took a deep breath to steady himself. He had seen enough action in his seven years aboard the Dragon to warrant himself an experienced seaman, but he never failed to react in the same way. It felt almost as though his senses were sharpening and coming into focus.

‘Run out!’ Preston called down the line. The gun ports were hoisted and there were the sounds of physical exertion as the gun crews heaved the guns forward so they were in position to fire at an uproll to take out the schooner's rigging. He watched carefully from the first gun port, judging the distance as they approached the schooner, which was still a threat even though she only had eight or possibly ten guns. Looking down the line again, Jim could see the apprehension on the midshipmen’s faces.

‘Steady lads.’ he said and they looked at him, ‘We will be alongside her shortly.’

He glanced across as Preston, whose normal smirk was gone, replaced by absolute concentration and Jim smiled. As much as others may judge them for being too informal at times, that Captain Sellar ran a ship that was at times too jolly a place to be, there was no doubt that every man and boy aboard understood his duty and performed exceedingly well. The order came down to fire at will, and Jim moved to stand behind the first gun captain, waiting for the precise moment to fire. There was a rush of air through the gun ports and then the hull of the schooner came into sight.

‘Fire as your guns bear!’ Preston shouted loud enough for the order to reach the final gun at the stern end of the deck. The gun captains touched the burning linstocks to the gun holes, igniting the powder and firing the guns with a mighty bang, leaving clouds of smoke drifting through the gun deck. The recoil was instantaneous and deadly, each gun weighing around two tons. Jim shouted out the orders committed to memory through long years of service and the gun crews immediately reloaded, methodically sponging, loading and ramming the charges and wadding home as the Dragon swept past the schooner, turning on a penny as Sellar skilfully manned the wheel and tracing a line that would bring her across the schooner's bow. There were pitifully few shots returned, and there seemed to be no serious injuries.

‘Run out!’ The guns were hauled forward, and Jim sighted through the gun port again, looking for a clear line of sight of the schooners bow as it came into view, nodding to Preston who the next order again.

‘Fire as your guns bear!’ He had his hand raised. There was another round of noise and smoke, followed by the enormous crash that signalled a falling mast. The call came down to cease fire, followed by another for all hands to come to the deck so he and Preston directed the gun crews to make sure the guns were locked in placed and everyone headed for the main deck.

Up top there was a flurry of activity as hands made ready to board. The marines were already assembled, with the main contingent standing to attention on the main deck while the sharpshooters headed up into the rigging. Craddock was at the helm again when Jim and Preston reached the quarterdeck. Sellar had dispatched Stirling for small arms for the officers and he returned swiftly, carrying the single shot flintlock pistols and handed them out to the officers at hand.

‘Do you think they will fight sir?’ Halford asked and Sellar nodded.

‘They’re Americans Halford. I think that can be guaranteed. Mr Stirling you have the ship.’ Sellar said, sweeping his coat to one side so it sat behind his cutlass. He was hatless now, revealing his thick short cropped brown hair.

Preston, Jim and Halford all followed his example. They were all trained to fight with sword and pistol and had done so since becoming midshipmen. Jim shifted his hanger to a more comfortable position on his hip. It was a fine sword, nothing fancy to look at but impeccably crafted and balanced and it fit his hand as if an extension of his arm with its gracefully curved blade a little shorter than other military weapons, which allowed it to be easily wielded in confined spaces. Not being the tallest of men, Jim also found it suited his brisk cut and thrust style of fighting.

They formed into boarding parties, four in total with each one being led by an officer - one for the bow, two from the main deck and one for aft. Craddock expertly bought the Dragon around to run alongside the schooner and grappling hooks with lines attached were thrown from the Dragon to the deck of the other ship. The hands hauled them in, bringing the two ships side by side. Jim moved to the front of his boarding party in the bow, pistol in one hand and the other to steady himself as he climbed over the railing of the Dragon and jumped to land aboard the schooner.

The deck was empty save for a score of men who appeared to have been killed in the initial barrage as they were mostly tangled up with the rigging from the fallen fore mast. It was scattered with debris and it appeared that the crew had no doubt retreated below decks. It was common practice for the crew to barricade themselves and sometimes even scuttle the ship so it was necessary so board and take the ship as quickly as possible. Even on a ship as outclassed in gunnery as this one was, there was still no guarantee of an easy victory.

Jim led his party to the fore gangway and looked down into the shadows. He could see nothing and looked across the deck to Preston, who was the next one along. Preston shook his head slightly. It was always dangerous to get caught below on a strange vessel so Jim looked back along the line of hands in his party and gestured to the sailor three men down who was carrying the grenades. The man hurried up the line, fishing out a grenade from the canvas bag he carried and handing it to Jim while he lit the fuse. Jim handled it carefully and quickly, mindful of how fast the fuse could burn down, and lobbed it into the open gangway, falling away as the grenade hit the deck below and exploded.

He waited a few seconds before leading the way down into the deck below, momentary night blindness hitting him as he adjusted from the sun above to the dimness below. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of blood and Jim grimaced as he took in the sight of bodies that had been fairly mangled by the grenade. The deck was slippery with blood and he made his way cautiously along, his party behind him.

The attack came as he passed the ship’s galley, the Americans having used it as cover. Jim raised his pistol and got off one shot before the rush of men reached him, backhanding the nearest one with the butt of the weapon, before drawing his sword and wading into the fight. He could hear the cries of his own men as they advanced through the deck, but he remained silent as was his way, the only sound he made being that of his exertions. He parried and cut, taking down three men in quick succession before turning and tossing his pistol to the hand behind him and turning his attention to sword alone, quick and accurate and preferring to slash at his attacker rather than run them through, which cost too much time in trying to free one’s sword. The hanger blade was soon slick with blood and it ran down the hilt into his sleeves and on his hands, but he was lost in the rush of adrenaline, blood thundering in his ears as he fought.

The encounter was quick, as Jim and his party quickly dispatched the men in their section of the boat. They moved from man to man to finish off the wounded with a quick dispassionate thrust of the sword, or swing of a caulking hammer.

He could hear the other boarding parties fighting further along the gun deck and headed in their direction. At the next gangway, he ran into Preston, who was a deadly and merciless fighter, striking down a much larger opponent. Preston gave him a quick fierce grin, his teeth stained red from a cut in his top lip. Jim rallied to his side and they fought back another wave of attackers. He and Preston always fought well alongside each other, their familiarity lending them an almost telepathic ability to predict each other’s moves.

In the stern of the ship, they could hear Sellar’s loud battle cries, and shouts of ‘To me!’. They pressed on and came to the open crew berth where Sellar was knee deep in it, his heavy cutlass flashing. Halford and his men had not been able to make their way down, their pathway being barred by the fallen mast, but Jim could hear the commotion above him and knew they were cutting off any survivors that had escaped the initial melee and fled up on deck. He dodged a blow from a hand with a carpentry axe and drove his shoulder forward into him, knocking him off balance enough to bring the hanger across the man’ s neck and throat in a downward stroke, feeling the man’s blood spray across his face before he pushed him away and watched him fall face first on the deck.

The wave of enemy hands had weakened and the last handful was now cornered near the stern, where they dropped their arms and surrendered. Sellar instructed the marines with him to take them to the brig and make them secure, before turning to Jim and smiling broadly, his blue-grey eyes alight with exhilaration.

‘We have her lad.’ he roared and Jim could only nod in response, still battling to get his breath back. A hand came down on his shoulder and he turned quickly. It was Preston, breathing heavily with one hand pressed to his side. Jim took in the sight of his hand and the spread of blood from underneath it, grabbing Preston about the waist to hold him steady.

‘Is it bad?’ he asked.

‘Not overly.’ Preston gritted out, ‘But I fear we will have matching scars and I resent the time it will take to fix this coat.’ Jim barked a shirt harsh laugh art Preston’s gallows humour.

‘Let’s get you back to the ship.’ He half pulled, half carried Preston with him. Up on deck, Halford was directing the movement of the surrendered men but he cast everything aside when he saw them, striding over quickly and taking Jim’s place as Preston’s support, fear and love clouding his face so strongly it was hard to look at.

‘Take him.’ Jim said. 'I will continue here.' Halford nodded in gratitude and took Preston back to the Dragon.

They secured the Dragon and the Annabelle together for the night. In the morning, Halford would take command of her once she was deemed sail worthy. The loss of the fore mast was not of great concern, although it meant she would be slow and have to be escorted as she could not outrun any other ships. As privateers, the surviving men were considered enemy combatants and would be returned to Quebec for holding while their fates were decided.

Down below, Jim watched as a cursing Preston was tended to by Staines, swearing until the air was fairly blue as his wound was treated. Halford was on deck taking watch, so Jim was left with the duty of watching over his friend. Preston was not the best of patients and he had to be held down for his wound to be stitched. He wriggled fiercely, insulting everything about Jim from his heritage to his sexual preferences, but Jim was stronger and held him down easily. Afterwards the wound was flushed with alcohol and Preston damned near bit through his arm in an effort to escape. Jim pounded him on the head and then let go at a nod from Staines.

‘You are an abominable human being!’ Preston spat, practically jumping off the table and inspecting the line of stitches, which was surprisingly neat considering how much he had been moving around.

‘Fine work Mr Staines.’ Jim muttered, nursing his arm and glaring at Preston. Staines took the compliment as his due and chased them off muttering about danger pay. Preston replaced his shirt, wrinkling his nose at the dried blood that now covered the right side.

‘Well, this is ruined.’ he stated. Jim stared at him in astonishment for a moment, then burst out laughing.

They began the long and slow journey back to Quebec the next morning, after transferring Halford and a crew of hands and marines across to the Annabelle. There were no officers left amongst the American privateers, having all been killed in the skirmish.

The ships coasted along at a leisurely six knots, with the Dragon in the lead. They would sail directly north along the edge of Nova Scotia and then bear due east to get to the Saint Laurent River which led in from the coast to Quebec and a certain dark eyed lieutenant that Jim was very much looking forward to seeing.

***********

A week later the 62nd were returning from Trois Rivieres, marching up the western bank of the St Laurent.

Ross rode at the rear of their column with Holmewood, who had had the good luck to trade Daisy with a local farmer for a spirited, young blood bay gelding. It was trade that was much to Bathsheba’s liking as the gelding, which Holmewood had christened Hotspur, was quick and bouncy and they had been flirting terribly the whole ride so far.

Ross yanked Bathsheba’s head up and away from where she was about to take an exploratory bite of Hotspur’s shoulder. He had recovered well from the battle, although the side of his face had been horribly swollen for a whole two weeks and he had been left with a noticeable scar that ran from the edge of his left eye, trailing down his cheek to almost in line with the corner of his mouth and standing out lividly against his pale skin. He was not best pleased at this development, although Holmewood assured him that it gave him a dangerous look that Jim would be unable to resist, having taken the news of Ross’ dalliance in his stride and now not above making pointed remarks purely for the satisfaction of seeing Ross squirm.

‘I’ll be looking forward to getting back to Quebec.’ Holmewood remarked. ‘Decent beds and lovely girls to chase. Not that you will joining me, which is a pity. It is always better to hunt in pairs. Unfortunately, you're probably going to be spending too much time buggering your pretty lieutenant to be of any aid to me’

‘I should think that you might want to rest before you start chasing anything in a dress.’ Ross replied in a surly voice and Holmewood laughed.

‘No dear boy. Rest is for the indolent amd infirm, and I am too far in my prime for such things. There are several invitations that I have in hand.’ He waggled his eyebrows at Ross in a meaningful manner.

‘How did you manage that?’ Ross asked, completely at a loss. ‘We didn’t even go ashore.’

‘Connections and letters of introduction. I’m sure you have heard of those, even in your little Cornish backwater.’ Holmewood replied pulling Hotspur out of the way as Ross rode Bathsheba into him in retaliation.

They amused themselves in this fashion the rest of the way, trading friendly insults until they saw the hills behind Quebec City come into view. The column was stationed on the southern side of the town, about a mile out. The lines of canvas tents came into sight, and they rode down to the head of the column where Howard was riding to get their orders. The line of soldiers was divided up and the troops squared away into divisions and assigned quarters.

Once done, Holmewood and Ross, having a spare hour to kill, took the opportunity to ride into the town along the single road. They had not seen or explored Quebec City, having been shipped directly down the river to Trois Rivieres and spent all their time there so far. The main section of the town was bordered by a fortified rampart wall on the southerly and westerly sides, which protected it from would be raiders and they rode through St John’s Gate which ran through and underneath the wall, which itself still showed the damage from the Christmas offensive.

The town was divided into two sections, Lower Town which ran adjacent to the docks and Upper Town which comprised some very fine houses, gardens and buildings of light stone, and it was this they rode through. The people were a mixture of locals, soldiers and sailors. There seemed to be no shortage of pretty girls which kept Holmewood happily preoccupied, so Ross took the opportunity to steer their way to Lower Town via the parade ground that ran along the nine gun battery hill and to the docks.

‘And where exactly are we headed?’ Holmewood asked, raising an eyebrow at him. ‘It seems to me we are taking a very specific route.’

‘I just want to see if there has been any word.’ Ross answered as nonchalantly as possible.

They came to Lower Town, an area of warehouses, taverns, and tenanted boarding houses which catered for the many seamen who came through Quebec, navy and merchant alike. There were several British ships moored off the coast and Ross squinted, trying to see if one was the Dragon. To his complete and utter delight he spotted her and felt a lurch in his stomach. Holmewood saw what his gaze was fixed on and chuckled.

‘It looks as if your boy is in port,’ he grinned.

‘Here, hold Bathsheba.’ Ross directed, dismounting and throwing the reins to a vociferously protesting Holmewood before charging to the dock where he hailed the tillerman of a lighter and asked him to take a message to the Dragon. He did not have time to go himself, but sent an invitation to join him that night in the town if Jim was able and then waited impatiently as the lighter rowed out, watching the tiny figures of the Dragon’s crew moving about as the lighter returned.

‘The Lieutenant says he will be unable to join you this evening sir, but will happily meet you here tomorrow at noon. He says he is looking forward to the ride he was promised.’ the man said and Holmewood laughed loudly behind Ross. Ross chucked down the man’s payment, which he caught smartly, and waved him off.

*************

The next day at noon exactly Ross was waiting at the dock standing with Bathsheba and Hotspur, who he had borrowed for the day. He tried to see over the crowds, cursing Jim for his shortness before he caught sight of his blond hair. He hailed him from where he stood and Jim came over, smiling in greeting then giving him a questioning look as he saw the scar on his face.

'How did you get that?' he asked.

'A hit from a rifle, but as you can see I am quite well.' Ross replied, feeling nervous at the response he might receive. Jim reached up, hand to Ross' jaw as he turned his head lightly to get a better look at it.

'That was a heavy blow.' he remarked.

'It was. it knocked me clean out. I woke up with a fearsome headache and I fear it has marred my looks.' Ross replied, trying to keep his tone nonchalant, but Jim put his hand on his arm and looked at him directly.

'It has not, at least to my eyes.' he said and Ross smiled. He noticed that Jim was not dressed in his usual naval blue, but a dusty brown leather riding coat and remarked on his change of clothing.

‘It would not do to get horse hair all over my coat.’ Jim replied when Ross questioned him. ‘This is far more practical when travelling by horse as I do on the few occasions I return home.’ He turned to inspect the horses. ‘So this is the infamous Bathsheba. You are correct, she is indeed a beauty.' He went to her and rubbed her nose. Ross gaped at his forward affections with the mare, which would have earned him a severe bite by now, but she seemed content to let Jim handle her and even bumped her muzzle against him when he stopped stroking her.

‘I thought you said she was the devil incarnate.’ Jim took Hotspur’s reins from Ross and mounted him neatly.

‘She normally is.’ Ross grumbled, pulling himself into the saddle. ‘Perhaps she is as having a momentary lapse of character and will brutally savage you later.’

‘That sounds an interesting idea, although I would prefer it from you rather than her.’ Jim had a teasing tone to his voice and Ross blushed furiously at the implication of his words.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, playing coy, and Jim laughed.

‘I have shore leave for the next two days.’ he replied. I have taken a room at one of the boarding houses along with Halford and Preston. The landlady was a seaman’s wife and is an excellent character to boot. She has completely taken to Preston in particular and put them in her best room.’

‘And she does not mind their…friendship?’ Ross asked, at a loss as to what to call what existed between the two.

‘She is used to sailor’s ways.’ Jim was grinning. ‘Just as well for they disappeared into the room not even an hour ago when we arrived in port and, as far as I can tell, will probably not have not left it by the time we return.’

They rode out of the town, along the north road past the hospital and up into the farmland beyond along a route that Ross was now familiar with. It led to the wood north of the town and then down to small beach on the river bank of the St Charles, where he would usually let Bathsheba cool her legs. It was a pleasant summer day and he could almost pretend he was back in Cornwall for a time, far from the army as they rode along past open fields. He had Bathsheba walking along at a sedate pace but she was starting to get impatient and tossing her head. If she did not get a good gallop once day she was inclined to sulk. They reached the edge of the woods and he allowed Bathsheba to take a little more rein as he felt her start to bunch underneath him, hoping to prevent her from bucking and unseating him. She had done so on a few previous occasions and Ross could swear she was keeping count.

‘She needs to run.’ Jim observed, having no apparent trouble at all with the relatively calm Hotspur. In fact, for a sailor, Ross noted that he seemed to ride well.

‘If I let her go, she will no doubt bolt as she is inclined to do and I cannot simply turn her into the wind to get her to stop. She will stop when she chooses and not before, by which time you will be left far behind us and I’ll have to ride back to retrieve you.’ he grumbled, fighting her to stop her from dropping her head.

‘Do not worry on my account.’ Jim replied with an arched eyebro., ‘I’m sure we are more than capable of keeping up with you.’ Ross was about to reply, when he have Hotspur a hard kick to the flanks and the bay took off.

‘Bloody hellfire.’ Ross swore. Bathsheba, upon seeing Hotspur being given his head managed to give a terrific buck and Ross lost his tight grip on her. They set off after Jim and Hotspur, with Ross barely managing to right himself and hang on, winding their way into the wood. Ross was thankful that Jim was following the clearly marked trail laid out before them. He rounded a corner and saw them just ahead. Jim looked over his shoulder and saw Ross catching up, so he threw him a feral smile and kicked Hotspur on.

Ross laughed as the excitement of the race overtook him and gave Bathsheba her head. She took to it, extended the length of her stride and moving up behind Hotspur although not quite catching him as he was as quick as she was. Ross noticed with admiration that Jim was not just a competent rider but absolutely fearless, racing through the trees effortlessly. He turned Hotspur down a side trail and the bay leaned easily into the turn guided by his light hands with Ross and Bathsheba in hot pursuit. They raced on through the dappled sunlight and light undergrowth until Ross spotted a fallen log in the pathway and prepared for Jim to pull up in front of them. Instead Jim gave Hotspur another kick and pulled his head up, popping him over the log as neatly as you please. Ross followed, Bathsheba taking the jump well and landing solidly. They burst from the woods at the end of the trail into a long flat meadow and here Bathsheba came into her own, stretching out like a hound at full gallop. Ross pulled alongside Jim, and let Bathsheba run to her heart’s content, raising himself in the stirrups to take the weight off her back.

Jim did the same, the reins held easily in one hand and his leather coat blowing out behind him. Hotspur kept pace with Bathsheba easily, both horses breathing hard with the exertion. They traced the line of the hill leading up from the meadow and down the other side back into the woods leading down to the river. They battled for position, winding through the trees, first one in front then the other as the hill sloped gently down, only pulling up when they saw the sparkle of sun on water through the trees.

At the water’s edge they allowed the horses to wade out and drink then moved them to the bank and dismounted, tethering the horses in the shade with enough room to crop the grass that grew in lush green patches along the bank. Jim followed Ross out onto a flat rock and they stood looking at the river, neither saying anything. It felt strange, this being the first time they were truly alone with each other. Ross felt strangely nervous, shifting from one foot to the other as he looked to where Jim had moved to the water at the rock’s edge and was looking downstream. He watched him, taking in the details of the thick blonde hair, serious face and the straight naval stance. Jim had his feet spread a little wider than necessary on land and Ross felt a warm swell of affection. It was quite unlike any emotion he had felt before, not for his family or limited circle of friends. Not even Elizabeth had affected him as badly as the man in front of him.

‘I do not understand any of this.’ he said and Jim turned to look at him, one eye squinted closed against the sun.

‘Understand what Ross?’ His light eyes were questioning.

‘This.’ Ross repeated. ‘you and I. I have no idea what it is we are doing.’

‘We’re not doing anything at present.’ Jim's voice was gently mocking and Ross rewarded him with a smile.

‘Don’t play ignorant. You know what I am talking about.’ he said.

‘I do.’ Jim replied easily. ‘It does not have to mean anything if you do not wish it. I have told you this before. I would not want to transgress on any vows you may have previously spoken. I’m sure Elizabeth would not appreciate it if I stole her fiancé away.’ He looked back at the water and shrugged, ‘We are friends for now. Let it stand at that.’

‘I do not think friends kiss or lay hands on each other the way we have done.’ Ross' hand went automatically to his mouth to chew a nail.

Jim heaved a sigh and then walked over, gently taking the hand from his mouth and releasing it.

‘No, that is true.' he admitted.

‘What is it you feel?’ Ross asked, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. Jim took a step closer to him eyes intent and Ross dropped his eyes, avoiding his gaze.

‘I feel that there is something between us that I have never felt before.’ Jim murmured, his voice dipping low and making Ross shiver. ‘Whether that is something that can endure well, I have no answer for that. What is it that you feel?’

‘I feel like I have been sleeping, and that when I am with you it is like I have awoken.’ he replied, looking up hesitantly. ‘No one has ever made me feel as you do.’

They stood looking at each other, the tension thick between them. It was broken suddenly by voices from the river and they both started as a boat came past, jumping apart even though they had not been standing that close to begin with. They watched it sail by, raising a hand in greeting and when it rounded the bend, Jim sighed and walked from the rock down to the small sandy beach, kicking stones along with the tow of his boot before crouching down and picking up several of the smooth river pebbles. He straightened up then threw one, skimming it along the surface of the river. Ross came down to join him and they did not speak again, simply skimming stones in silence.

It was starting to get a little darker when they started the ride back to Quebec City. There was no frantic race this time and when they arrived at the open stretch of grass, Ross rode Bathsheba down in the lead, stopping as he realised that Jim had pulled Hotspur up and dismounted. He turned Bathsheba back, looking down in confusion as Jim approached to come up next to Ross and extended one hand up.

‘Come down.’ His eyes were intent and Ross obeyed, but not without some hesitation. Jim took the reins from his hands letting them drop and Bathsheba and Hotspur, trained as army horses, took the opportunity to eat as much grass as possible.

Jim grasped Ross’ hand in his and pulled him along behind him, moving away from the path and up to a small rise. When they reached the other side and were hidden from the road, he turned to suddenly catch Ross off guard and push him to the ground. Ross went down on his backside and then Jim was over him, straddling his hips. He reached down, catching Ross’ face in his hands and kissing him. Ross responded willingly, opening his mouth and letting his arms encircle Jim tightly, pulling him down onto his lap as he felt Jim’s hands at his hair, pulling the black ribbon loose and letting his fingers tangle in the loose curls, the light tugging sending shivers through Ross as he felt the hard contact at their groins.

With a soft growl he turned them over so he was on top of Jim, pushing him into the grass. Jim moaned into his mouth and brought his knee up so it was against him and Ross pressed down chasing the friction. Their kisses turned desperate and eventually Ross broke away, his breath coming in harsh low gasps as he felt Jim’s hand move to undo the buttons of his breeches and slide down the front until he felt the first glorious contact of Jim’s rough hand against him. He dropped his head forward onto Jim’s shoulder, his own hand frantically seeking to do the same. It was more difficult than he had thought, not possessing the experience that Jim had but he managed and took Jim in his own hand. Jim's cock was hot and hard, the skin velvety soft, and Ross bit his lip to stifle a loud moan.

‘No,’ Jim breathed and Ross looked down into his eyes which had turned deep blue with lust and something else as well that Ross couldn’t identify but which made his heart jump discordantly. ‘I wish to hear you.’

Ross nodded, matching the pace of Jim’s hand with his own, their eyes locked together. It was incredibly arousing doing it in the sunlight so he could see every little emotion flash across Jim’s face and kiss his open panting mouth, watching right until the very moment Jim's eyes fell closed and he spilled into Ross’ hand with his breathing stuttering. Ross pressed his mouth to Jim’s, mindless of the bruising contact as he came not moments after and collapsed down on top of him, breathing like he’d just run a mile in full gear.

They lay there like that a moment, shaking with each gasp of air and trying to catch their breath, until Jim pushed Ross off of him. He wiped his hand on the grass, then did up his breeches while Ross lay on his back with his eyes closed and his heart racing. He hardly registered the shadow falling across him until he felt Jim kiss him with infinite gentleness and smiled against his mouth.

‘You need to straighten yourself up.’ Jim nudged Ross’ cheek with his nose before rolling away and getting to his feet. Ross cleaned his hand on the grass next to him, buttoned himself up and sat up to bring up his knees so he could rest his arms on them and his head on his arms.

‘Give me moment.’ he panted. ‘I feel fair done in.’ He heard Jim’s chuckle and then felt him crouch behind him. Gentle fingers pulled through his loose hair, drawing it back and tying the ribbon to hold it tightly with a deftness born of long experience.

‘There.’ Jim leaned in and planted a final soft kiss behind Ross' ear. ‘Now you look a bit more presentable.’ Ross looked up and watched him extend a hand, taking it and letting Jim haul him to his feet so they could go and retrieve the horses. He laughed at Ross as he dusted off his breeches, grumbling about the dirt and glaring back because Jim’s long coat had protected him from the worst of it.

They mounted up and rode back to town, letting their horses move close enough to let their legs brush together. Once back they headed back to the Lower Town boarding house, Jim climbed down from Hotspur’s back and handed the reins up to Ross.

‘Will I see you tonight?’ he asked, his face full of hopeful yearning.

‘I would very much like that.’ Ross replied and Jim smiled before leaving him and going inside.

Ross watched until the door was shut and then rode off, trying very hard to stop himself smiling knowing that Holmewood would spot it in a second and give him no peace for it.

*************

Later that evening, he was getting ready for their rendez-vous and found himself being subjected to some scrutiny.

‘Where are you off to?’ Holmewood asked from his position on his cot.

‘To town. I am meeting Jim there this evening.’ Ross replied, being deliberately vague. He had no wish for company.

‘Excellent.’ Holmewood exclaimed. ‘I think a night in the taverns is a fine idea.’

‘Oh no, you don't.’ Ross protested, annoyed at the thought of being forced to share Jim’s company yet again. ‘It was bad enough the last time.’

‘Nonsense.’ Holmewood assured him, pulling on his coat. ‘Think of me as your chaperone for the evening. After all we don’t want Lieutenant Hawkins thinking that courting you is a foregone conclusion. There’s nothing like a little bit of running to get the blood up, amongst other things.’

Ross groaned at the dreadful pun.

‘You are not to embarrass me in any way, shape or form, is that perfectly clear?’ he instructed sternly and Holmewood grinned.

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ he replied, but his smirk did not agree.

They started to walk the mile into town, Ross going along with Holmewood’s suggestion that they did not want to be responsible for the horses in an inebriated state. A passing cart gave them a lift in with both of them sitting on the backboard, their legs dangling like small boys. Holmewood chattered on incessantly while Ross chewed a nail, feeling the slow, tortuous build of anticipation in his stomach.

They climbed off after going through the gate and walked the rest of the way. The town was busy with the number of troops and sailors at its highest level since they arrived and the streets crowded with red and blue uniforms. Most of the popular drinking houses were down at the docks and making the most of their most frequent visitors. The quality of drink available varied widely and most taverns were rough places where naval officers and hands alike drank until they could only stagger back to their ships. Soldiers tended to be a bit wary of the rougher places, but generally the mood between services was genial with officers of both branches meeting to drink together.

They stopped off at the boarding house Ross had left Jim the day before and entered into the front parlour. The landlady, a Mrs Rochester, was in the room as were Preston and Halford, both in their shirts with their coats draped over the backs of their chairs and sitting drinking tea at the circular table that dominated the small room. Mrs Rochester was a veritable battleship of a woman with a wide bust and high colouring. She greeted them and swept out in an audible creak of corsetry while Halford was up on his feet in a trice, greeting Holmewood warmly. He had found a bit of a kindred spirit in their love of all things military with him and they exchanged news while Preston looked Ross up and down.

‘You two off out tonight?’ he asked and gave Ross an enquiring look.

‘Holmewood has insisted on accompanying me.’ Ross muttered, giving Holmewood a look.

‘As your chaperone dear boy.’ Holmewood replied, sitting down alongside Halford and stealing one of the pieces of bread from his plate.

‘I didn’t know you needed one.’ Preston laughed and Ross snorted.

‘Of course he does. The boy is courting isn’t he? And although he is the elder of the two I will not have him fall prey to a young rake.’ Holmewood pointed out.

‘I am not some sixteen year old lass that needs you to round around after me making sure my virtue is intact.’ Ross retorted, to the general amusement of his three companions.

‘So you’re saying it’s not?’ Preston asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘I’m saying it’s nobody’s bloody business whether it is or isn’t.’ Ross shot back, eyes narrowed at him.

‘Well.’ Preston declared. ‘If that should be the case, then I think it only fair that we accompany Jim under the same conditions. After all I have heard about army officers I’m sure his virtue won’t last a minute before you have got him out in an alley behind the tavern.’

‘Oi!’ Holmewood interjected. ‘I think you’ll find that my Lieutenant’s intentions are above repute as is his reputation.’

‘I think we should all stop speculating on Ross’ virtue and reputation and shake a leg.’ The voice came from the doorway leading from the parlour and Ross turned to see Jim leaning against the door frame, arms folded. He felt his heart give that familiar little lurch and smiled brilliantly at the way Jim’s eyes focused in on him as if he was the only one in the room.

‘Agreed.’ said Preston getting up. 'We should be off.'

‘What all of us?’ Ross protested again, giving Jim a dismayed look.

‘Of course.’ Halford was also rising and helping Preston into his coat. ‘You must realise that if you court a sailor, you also court the crew.’

‘So we have progressed to courting have we?” Jim laughed. ‘In that case, I will be sure to escort the Lieutenant anywhere he wishes without so much as laying a finger on his virtue.’

‘And all I wish is to go somewhere where there is drink and a quiet place where Jim and I can converse, preferably alone.’ Ross grumbled, casting mutinuous looks at the other three.

‘All in good time.’ Holmewood declared, rising and putting on his hat. ‘To the tavern!’

*************

The tavern in question was a mere ten minutes’ walk from the boarding house, a regular sailor’s haunt with a hard packed dirt floor and barrels that doubled as furniture. There were several long low tables and benches. They took one, and were served by a sylph like girl with big green eyes that Holmewood immediately started making overtures to. Sitting next to Jim, Ross shook his head.

‘He is utterly incorrigible.’ He was now in a foul mood at the prospect of having his plans thwarted once again.

‘He’s enjoying himself.’ Jim replied taking a pull from the earthenware mug of beer he had in front of him. ‘In truth it is the only attention she is likely to get from us tonight.’

The night degenerated slowly, filled with drinking, laughter and endless tales of adventures in the West Indies and Europe. Holmewood and the three lieutenants traded stories of campaigns and privateers and Halford espoused the delights of Caribbean ladies to Holmewood, who lamented the fact that he had never been to the sunny shores along the Equator. A card game had broken out at the table next to them and Preston gave Jim a meaningful look.

‘Not tonight,’ Jim laughed, one hand on Ross’ knee under the table. ‘I am already occupied.’

It will be worth your while.’ Preston cajoled but he was having none of it.

‘I have no need for coin this evening.’ He gave Ross a sidelong smile, ‘I have all I need.’

Ross blushed, and ducked his head at that, his answering smile suitably pleased. Preston fairly pouted at than and then proceeded to persuade, threaten and eventually plead. To shut him up Jim finally relented, and Preston made a few subtle overtures to the card players next door, which resulted in them being invited to sit in on the next hand. Ross watched with interest as the cards were dealt, leaning in to Halford.

‘Why all the commotion about making Jim play cards.’ he asked and Halford raised a finger to his lips with a conspiratorial smile.

‘Watch.’ he said simply.

So Ross watched.

At first nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Then, Jim began winning. And continued winning until every last man at the table had lost most of the money in their pockets. Ross could not for the life of him see anything that made Jim’s actions below board. He simply seemed to have the most unlikely luck of any man Ross had ever seen. He looked at Halford who leaned back and whispered _Pirate_ in his ear. What was more, for every time Jim won, he would buy more drinks for the table, so that by the end of the evening the men he had beaten were so soundly drunk they left with bedazzled smiles and no hard feelings.

Ross finally stood, feeling a little unsteady on his feet. They had long since lost Holmewood, who had stumbled off in search of the green-eyed bar maid. Preston and Halford performed their usual act of using each other for leverage to stand and leaned heavily on each other as the four of them left the tavern. It must have been well past midnight, but it was almost clear as day with a full, bright moon lighting their way. Jim and Ross lingered a little, moving behind them, using the cover of darkness cast by the buildings to link their fingers together.

After a little way Preston flung his arms around Halford’s neck, declaring a fervent wish to be taken under the full moon which was hurriedly hushed by Halford. They headed off in the direction of the docks, leaving Jim and Ross alone. They managed a few more steps before Ross ran out of steam and leaned back heavily against a wall while Jim regarded him with amusement.

Are you all right?’ he asked.

‘I’m am fine.’ Ross replied. ‘I think I am simply overcome by what I saw this evening.’

‘And what was that?' Jim laughed, moving towards him.

‘As fine a display of gambling as I have ever witnessed. You must teach me to play cards like that. I have never seen the like before. The others are correct, you do have the tendencies of a pirate.’ He took an involuntary step back in the face of Jim's intent and ended up against the wall behind him. Jim looked at him appraisingly before suddenly moving into Ross’ space, placing one hand on the wall by his head and leaning in close enough for Ross to feel him breathing and smell the sweet scent of alcohol on his breath.

‘Is that all you wish for this pirate to teach you?’ he asked, looking into his eyes. Ross felt his breathing shorten at the tone of his voice and seeing how Jim’s direct stare held a hint of challenge.

‘No.’ he replied, ducking his head to hide the heat in his face. ‘There are many things I would wish for you to show me.’

Jim did not reply. Instead he took Ross’ hand pulling him away from the wall with him, as they headed through the darkened streets in the direction of the boarding house.

They barely made it to the boarding house without touching each other. Ross was sure he couldn’t have moved any swifter without breaking into a flat run. They did get inside the front door, Jim grabbing his hand and practically dragging him to the small room he occupied at the back of the house before throwing the door open and pushing Ross inside. He followed, almost slamming the door behind them.

Ross got him by the coat, using his greater height to manhandle Jim against the door and knocking the air out of him slightly. He kissed him forcefully, shoving his tongue into his mouth without any care for finesse and Jim responded in kind, pulling Ross’ hips in against him. Ross could feel Jim was already as hard as he was and ground his cock against his, delighting in the sharp intake of breath it caused. He shed his coat, not caring where it fell, before returning to what he was doing.

Eventually Jim managed to get a hand between them, pushing Ross away.

‘My God, Ross.’ He sounded completely out of breath. ‘You will be the death of us both if you continue at this pace.’

‘Then we shall be sure to die happy.’ Ross retorted, trying to get Jim out of his own coat.

Jim laughed, a light joyous thing, and herded them both across to the narrow bed. He pushed Ross against it, making him sit before stepping back. Ross watched as he started to undress, torn between wanting to watch and wanting to get rid of his own clothes. The latter won out and he set to, tackling boots, stockings and shirt until he was left sitting in his breeches. He looked up at a movement and his mouth open.

Jim naked was a glorious sight, the moonlight through the window painting him in shades of silver and grey. Long years of ship work had given him a broad strong body and Ross drank him in, not even trying to hide the admiration on his face. Jim stepped towards him and Ross’ gaze automatically dropped below his waist to his cock. He had been naked with other men before, swimming or dressing and God knew he’d seen Holmewood’s hairy arse more times than he could count, but this was so different. He was used to his own arousal but seeing it on another man, a man that was currently driving him wild with desire, was another thing entirely. Jim approached until he was but a breath away, a cautious look on his face.

‘You do know that we do not have to do this.’ he ventured, mistaking Ross’ look for trepidation and Ross’ head shot up.

‘Like bloody hell we do not.’ he replied. ‘I think I may die if you don’t touch me again.’

‘Well, we can’t have that now, can we?’ Jim smiled. He stared at Ross, eyes moving down the lean, pale body covered in thick dark hair. He reached down, tracing a dark eyebrow and then letting his finger move to follow the scar on Ross’ face. ‘Even with this you are truly the most beautiful thing I have ever set eyes on. In fact, I think it makes you even more so.’

Ross caught his hand in his own, holding it against his face. He looked up into the blue eyes, made colourless by the night light.

‘Fuck me.’ he breathed and heard his voice shake as he said the words.

‘Only if you wish it.’ Jim replied, his own voice trembling slightly.

‘I do.’ he replied and Jim nodded once, pushing him back onto the bed. Ross went, wriggling out of his open breeches and tossing them over Jim’s shoulder as he climbed onto the bed and moved on top of Ross. Before they lay back, Jim caught at the black ribbon in Ross' hair and pulled it, letting his curls loose so they fell down around his face. Ross settled his head back onto the pillow, his breath coming hard and fast at the slide of Jim’s skin against his as they settled into each other. He could feel Jim’s bare cock and wanted nothing more than to thrust against him, creating the friction he so desperately craved. Jim reached up, pushing his hair out of his eyes and locking his eyes with his as he took it down.

‘At any time, should you wish to cease you need only say the word.’ he directed and Ross smiled.

‘Fuck me.’ he repeated, letting his hand move down to wrap around Jim’s cock. Jim gasped and tangled his fingers in Ross’ hair, pulling his head back and kissing him. He did the same to Ross, and their hands started to move together. Ross was almost out of his mind with lust and pleasure at the feel of Jim’s tongue in his mouth and his hand on his cock, dimly aware of the keening noises he was making and of Jim’s answering pants. The pace of their hands quickened and Ross felt the familiar build of pressure and heat that signalled his release. He tried to stifle it but couldn’t and he let go almost regretfully, coming violently in Jim’s hand. Jim managed only a few more thrusts before doing the same, warm semen coating Ross’ palm and fingers. They stilled eventually, breathing hard into each other’s faces.

‘I’m sorry.’ Ross muttered and Jim laughed lightly again.

‘Whatever for?’ he asked.

‘I do not seem to be able to last as long as necessary for us to do anything of consequence.’ Ross replied, feeling abashed.

‘You are obviously not familiar with the fact that you are a young, healthy male.’ Jim said grinning at him. ‘Have no fear, when I am done with you, you will be more than ready once more.’ He moved to Ross’ side, watching as Ross fished for his discarded shirt and cleaned his hand before offering it to him. Jim shook his head.

‘Not yet.’ he replied. ‘Turn over.’

Ross frowned at him but complied, shifting until he was comfortable and resting his head on his arms. He looked back over his shoulder at Jim, who had sat up  
a little.

‘Do you trust me?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ Ross replied and Jim reached forward with his clean hand, pushing Ross’ head back down onto his arms.

‘Close your eyes and breathe steadily.’ he instructed. Ross did as he was told, evening out his breathing. He felt the slight coldness of Jim’s semen wet fingers on his skin and flinched involuntarily. Jim shifted and Ross felt him kissing down the length of his back as his fingers moved in, brushing against his entrance and making him shiver violently.

‘Breathe.’ Jim murmured. ‘This will go easier if you do.’ His finger pressed in gently, sending a flare of heat and lust through Ross. The slickness of his own release made its passage smooth and frictionless and Ross felt it slip inside him until Jim’s hand bumped against him.

‘Are you all right?’ Jim asked and he nodded, not trusting his voice to be coherent enough to answer. Jim’s hand began to move and Ross felt his own cock harden again as the pressure built inside him. It was a strange sensation, yet extremely pleasurable and he found himself pressing back against Jim’s hand, chasing the feeling of being filled coupled with the friction of his own cock against the bed.

‘That’s good.’ Jim's voice was strained and thick. ‘There will be another coming if you are ready.’

‘Just do it.’ Ross ground out, clutching the pillow hard enough to tear. He felt the first finger withdraw, before it was replaced with two and Ross gasped at the light sting that accompanied them. It stretched and burned in a most delicious way, and he wanted more.

‘Harder.’ he moaned and Jim complied, both fingers sliding in and out smoothly. He continued like that for a while until they were both panting then abruptly slowed. Ross was about to demand an explanation when Jim’s fingers brushed against a spot just behind his cock that made him cry out and jump violently, as blindingly pleasurable feeling shot through his groin and up his spine.

Jim rested his forehead against Ross’ back and Ross could feel him smile. The fingers found the spot again, pressing it in a steady rhythm that had Ross spasming and cursing into the pillow. He kept the movement steady and persistent and Ross was helpless, unable to do anything but lie there and let the pleasure wash over him in wave after wave. He was vaguely aware of a third finger being added but was so far gone he did not care about the further stretch. He pushed back as hard as he could against Jim’s fingers chasing his release and Jim wasted no time, pulling his fingers out and spitting into his hand. He ran it over his cock before moving around behind Ross, replacing his fingers with himself and pushing into Ross with one smooth thrust. It gave him one searing flash of pain and he clenched tightly around Jim, hearing the answering moan as he leaned forward, laying his body along Ross’ sweat drenched back to let him adjust to the feeling. He wrapped one arm across the front of Ross’ chest, holding them still.

‘Do you wish to me to withdraw.’ he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘I shall surely bayonet you if you do.’ Ross panted. ‘Give me a moment more, then you can move.’ He forced himself to breathe deeply, letting himself get used to the thickness of Jim inside him, then nodded.

‘Move.’ he demanded and Jim began to thrust very slowly. Each movement dragged a moan from Ross and Jim picked up his pace until they were moving in accord, and Ross started to rock backwards against Jim as he thrust, letting the friction of the bed linen work him from below. Jim pushed his right leg up a little to give better access and shifted position to thrust deeper and Ross almost yelped as he felt Jim’s cock hit the spot he had found with his fingers earlier. It was utterly glorious and he lost all coherence and awareness, reduced to mindless animal sounds as Jim drove into him, hitting the spot repeatedly until he arched off the bed, coming so hard he barely felt the flood of heat inside him as Jim came immediately after. Both of them were shaking so hard from the violence of their mutual release that all they could do was collapse onto the bed,lying that way until their breathing slowed. Ross felt Jim ease out of him then get up to retrieve the soiled shirt, cleaning himself and Ross up and getting him to turn over with a gentle tap to the side so he could wipe the sheet under him. Once done he climbed back onto the bed, pulling the top covers over them and settling in behind Ross’ backwith one arm around his waist. Ross lay back against him, enjoying the pleasant heat of his body. He closed his eyes and was asleep in minutes.

Jim looked down at him fondly, pulling a loose strand of hair from his face, before he too lay down and slept.

**Author's Note:**

> For interest, Ross' regiment is the 62nd Foot, one of the Dorset and Devon Regiments.


End file.
